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lo. 75 50 Cents 

Xovell’s llnternational Series 


Kestell of Greystone 


BY 

ESME STUART 


NEW YORK 

FRANK F. LOVELL AND COMPANY 

142 and 144 Worth Street 


Every work in this series is published by arrangement with the author 


Issued Semi-Weekly. Annual Subscription, $30.00 March 6, i8go. 














































J 


J 



J 

J 






KESTELL OF GrRETSTONE. 







Copyright, 1890, 

By John W. Lovell. 


Kestell of Greystone, 


CONTENTS. 


PART I. 


CHAPTER 1. 


Rushbrook House 

• 

. 

Page. 

13 

CHAPTER 

II. 



Dinner and a Critic 

• 

• 

24 

CHAPTER 

III. 



Brother and Sister 

• 

• 

36 

CHAPTER 

IV. 



On the Moor . 

• 

• 

45 

CHAPTER 

V. 



Out of His Element 

• 

• 

53 

CHAPTER 

VI. 



Mr. Kestell’s Pensioner 

, # 

% 

64 


CHAPTER VII. 


Love’s Pitfalls 


75 


vm 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Proud of Her Eame 



CHAPTER IX. 

Second Sight 



Country-born 

CHAPTER X. 


CHAPTER XL 

The Chance of New Work . 

CHAPTER XII. 
A Strong Attraction 

CHAPTER XIIL 

A Sunday Afternoon 

CHAPTER XIV. 

An After-dinner Talk . 

CHAPTER XV. 

Jesse’s Benefactor . 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Not Quite Clear 


Arrested . 

CHAPTER XVII. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 


The Offer Refused . 


CONTENTS. 


ix 

PART n. 

CHAPTER L 

Being Questioned .... 


Page. 

172 

CHAPTER II. 

An Accident on the Line 


179 

CHAPTER III. 

Worthless Papers .... 


188 

CHAPTER IY. 

Amice’s Resolution 


198 

CHAPTER Y. 

A Man’s Honor . . . 


204 

CHAPTER VI. 

Restitution of all Things 


213 

CHAPTER VII. 

Who is John Pellew? 


224 

CHAPTER VIII. 



Elta’s Protector .... 

• 

233 

CHAPTER IX. 

In London on Business 


245 

CHAPTER X. 

A GrLSAM OF I4GHT , , . , 

• 

253 


X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Page. 

Thick Darkness 259 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Unsigned Will 267 

CHAPTER XIII. 

At the Greystone Hotel .... 272 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Hoel Knows All 278 

CHAPTER XV. 

Mistaken Silence 284 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Happy Waiting 291 

CHAPTER XVII. 

At an End 297 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Law of a Man’s Own Mind . . . 305 


CONTENTS. 

xi 

PART III. 


CHAPTER 1. 

Self-exiled 

Page. 

. . 313 

CHAPTER II. 


Hoel’s Teacher .... 

O 

CO 

CHAPTER III. 


No Explanation .... 

CO 

o* 

CO 

CHAPTER IV. 


The Strength of Weakness . 

336 

CHAPTER V. 


Another Son-in-Law 

o* 

CO 

CHAPTER VI. 


Symee’s Reception . 

351 

CHAPTER VII. 


New Friends 

. . 356 

CHAPTER VIII. 


“A Marriage is Arranged ” 

365 

CHAPTER IX. 


A Visitor 

372 

CHAPTER X. 



Puzzled Friends 


379 


Xll 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The Eye of the Wedding 

Page. 

387 

CHAPTER XII. 

Really in Love 

396 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A Strange Sight 

403 

CHAPTER XIV. 

“What Compensation?” 

409 

CHAPTER XV. 

Alone at Night 

. 415 

CHAPTER XVI. 

A Triumphal Arch .... 

. m 

CHAPTER XVII. 

“ Wilt Thou Have this Man?” 

. 430 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Vengeance! 

. 442 

CHAPTER XIX. 

By the Pools 

. 450 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Tension Oyer . . . . 

. 459 

CHAPTER XXI. 

A Meeting on the Moor 

. 470 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE, 


PART I. 


CHAPTER 1. 

RUSHBROOK HOUSE. 

It would be very difficult to say at which time of the 
year the country about Rushbrook Beacon shows to most 
advantage. Beautiful it always is, this high moorland, 
which Nature has enriched with every color that can most 
please the eye and send immeasurable joy into a heart that 
loves beauty. This Beacon is the highest land in South- 
shire, and one can look round on every side and see a won- 
drous diversity of views; from the south, where blue, 
undulating hills speak of pastures on sunny slopes, to the 
north, where the long, stern ridge of heathy moor, marked 
out by solitary fir clumps, makes one realize the silent 
majesty of uncultivated lands, through which man has 
ventured on no other sign of his cunning than' by making 
the broad, sandy high-road, where formerly the heavy coach 
rolled on toward the sea-coast, but where now picturesque 
country wagons crawl happily along, scorning the bare idea 
of the steam monster that has almost swallowed up all the 
carriers’ carts of the more inhabited neighborhoods. 

The high ridges of the moorland, or forest, as it is called, 
sweep away from the north to the west. On the east, as 
we stand on the Beacon, we can forget the grand desolation 
behind us, and, in our milder moods, we may feel glad that 
here the character of the land has nothing rugged about it; 
that the great sea of heather has been forbidden to advance; 
and that, amid green meadows and gentle undulations ris- 
ing one behind the other, friendly windmills stretch out 
their four arms, courting the winds and gayly racing 


14 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


through their morning’s work, making music among the 
sails. 

The Beacon has about a mile of almost flat land on its 
summit, and gradually slopes down on the north-west side 
to a beautiful valley, at the head of which stands Rush- 
brook House. Once it had been connected with a water- 
mill; but the grinding of the latter had ceased long ago, 
and Nature and art had contrived to render this spot one 
of the most lovely in the country; for the forest land had 
collected its trickling streams and had formed along the 
valley four exquisite pools, and these were edged with lux- 
uriant trees of every description, coming sometimes close 
to the edge, sometimes climbing up steep hills on either 
side. 

The village of Rushbrook lay scattered about on the top 
of the Beacon, where only one big house was to be seen. 
It was named “ The Observatory,” because this circular 
building had been added to a large and not very pict- 
uresque modern dwelling. Here lived Lord Cartmel, 
though he was chiefly to be found in the observatory cham- 
ber, star-gazing or poring over astronomical books. His 
only son, the Honorable Walter Akister, was a barrister, 
and had chambers in the Temple; but oftenest he might be 
seen at Rushbrook, and, like Coelebs, he was said to be in 
search of a wife. His sister Betta, who was plain, shy, 
and aristocratic, spent her time in trying to fit the ways of 
her father and her brother into the puzzle of daily life. 

Below the village lay the hamlet of Rushbrook Mills, 
where was situated the very picturesque Rushbrook House. 
Here lived Mr. Josiah Kestell, his wife, and two daughters. 
He had bought the place from Mr. Eagle .Bennison, the 
squire, who owned miles of the forest land, which, though 
beautiful, was not exactly productive, so that the large 
sum ottered to him by “ Kestell of Greystone,” as the law- 
yer had long been known, induced him to sell the old mill- 
house and a few acres of land, including the first of the 
pools, to the successful solicitor. 

The squire’s own house was situated at the other end of 
the valley, and above the last of the pools; It was known 
as Court Garden, and was reached by a road that was par- 
allel with the water, then, crossing an old bridge, ran be- 
tween fir-wood and steep inclines up to the squire’s abode, 
from whence one looked down on the leafy maze below 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 15 

and far away to the northern ridge of forest before men- 
tioned. 

It was often a subject of discussion whether Rushbrook 
House, with its exquisite picturesqueness; its tall, gray- 
arched bridge, spanning the head of the valley and acting 
as a kind of draw-bridge to the house; its beautiful pool in 
front, where the wild-fowl and the moor-hens fluttered; its 
overhanging trees and all its other charms; surpassed the 
wider views and the larch and fir plantations of Court 
Garden. 

Both houses were, so it appeared, far from the busy 
haunts of men, for there was a three-mile drive to Rush- 
brook Station, and then a ten-minute train journey to 
Greys tone; or, if one preferred it, a five-mile walk to 
Greystone, which boasted of being the county town of 
Southshire. 

In winter, though the sandy roads never seemed muddy, 
the region could look very grand and desolate when storms 
swept over the great Beacon and rushed down to the val- 
ley, and when the roar of the voices of the winds among 
the huge firs added the charm of the awful and the terrible 
to this favored spot. 

Perhaps it is not enough realized how much the things 
we look at in our childhood help to mold our characters. 
Certainly something of the beauty and the honest way- 
wardness of the nature around her had helped to form 
Elva KestelPs moods. She had come to Rushwood House 
when quite a child, and she could well remember how she 
had led her younger sister Amice many a journey of ex- 
ploration, rejecting the escort of nurse or governess. Mrs. 
Kestell was an invalid and Mr. Kestell was but little at 
home, and, moreover, a most indulgent father, so the two 
girls had, as it were, formed their own characters and 
strengthened their own inclinations, till now that they were 
grown into the come-out-young-lady age they were them- 
selves, and not artificial girls; but so dissimilar were they 
that it would have been difficult to believe their close rela- 
tionship. One, and one thing only, they equally possessed 
— a passionate love for their home, and for the beautiful 
nature that surrounded them. In Elva it came out in that 
passion of life— if one may use the expression — that deter- 
mined associating of the mental with the physical existence, 
and that fitfulness of purpose which the winds of heaven 


16 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


apparently possess. But with Amice it was quite different. 
The still, deep, shrinking character seemed to understand 
the mysteries of the hidden world in a way in which very 
few have learned to understand them, and which those few 
have seldom disclosed, preferring to carry their curious 
link with them to the grave than to expound it, perhaps 
being quite unable to tell us what hidden sympathy has 
connected them with the physical world. 

This evening there were no wayward winds, however, 
and an exquisite moonlight haze seemed to envelope Rush- 
brook House with kindly softness; the trees were all paint- 
ed in a dark-gray wash, and in the stillness of the early 
September evening not a leaf seemed to stir. 

The shutters were not yet closed, and lights twinkled 
here and there in apparently magnified splendor. In one 
window, any person standing on the old, ivy-covered bridge 
would have noticed the outline of a girl crossing and re- 
crossing the light within. 

Elva Kestell was dressing for a dinner-party, but all at 
once she paused in this usually important occupation, and, 
sitting down by the side of her dressing-table, she thrust 
her w T ell-shaped hands into a thick mass of wavy hair, and, 
with an impatient gesture, read for the third time a para- 
graph on one page of 46 The Current Reader.” 

Yet she knew the words almost by heart, and they seemed 
engraved on her brain with the exactness of an inscription 
on a piece of presentation plate: 

“We have seldom read a book which so utterly failed in 
its purpose as does 4 An Undine of To-day/ by Isidore 
Kent. That the author had, when she wrote this novel, 
praiseworthy intentions, we can scarcely doubt, when we 
have waded through her work; and we purposely say 4 she/ 
for no masculine disguise could hide the sex of the writer 
whose purpose— always supposing she had one — has been 
to show that the apparently soulless being, whom we call a 
young lady in society, can be endowed with thought and 
feeling, if only some good man will take lier in hand by the 
usual method of matrimony. But even this idea is unde- 
fined, and we are led to doubt not only whether the 
hero himself has a soul, but whether, if he has one, he 
would be capable of dividing it into two equal parts with 
his TJndipe, We shall not take away the little inter- 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


17 


est the book possesses by divulging the plot, but we must 
protest against Isidore Rentes false ideas of honor. She 
pours her vials of wrath upon her hero, who very naturally 
fights shy of a young lady whose relations were decidedly 
shady. We, on the other hand, would congratulate him 
on his narrow escape. 

44 It is a pity such novels as 4 An Undine of To-day/ 
find publishers, for they neither enrich literature nor the 
minds of those who read them. 

44 Hoel Fenner. ” 

Elva Kestell, having again reached the end of the notice, 
pushed back her chair, aud said aloud: 

44 Hoel Fenner, 1 hate him! AVhat a horrid, cruel re- 
view, and he has purposely misunderstood me.” 

Then she walked to her book-shelf and took down a 
volume bound in sky-blue cloth, and upon which one could 
read in gold letters, 44 An Undine of To-day, by Isidore 
Rent.” 

44 One good thing is,” she continued, mentally, 44 that 
no one but papa, mamma, and Amice know that I am Isi- 
dore Rent, and they will not tell — I made them promise. 
But I never thought a man could be so cruel as to publish 
such words. I will never, never write again — never; and 
yet I had something to say — all the same, I hate Hoel Fen- 
ner, and I wish I could tell him so.” 

A knock at the door made Elva put back her volume 
hastily, and remember that she was not ready, which fact 
the maid who entered saw to her dismay, and exclaimed: 

44 Oh, Miss Elva, the carriage will be round in five min- 
utes, and Mr. Rested is already down-stairs.” 

44 Well, make haste, Symee; this velvet dress is soon put 
on. It was too bad of Miss Amice to refuse to go; she was 
asked. Where’s my fan? — quick, Symee, and the row of 
pearls.” 

44 If you will sit down, Miss Elva, I will put this flower 
in your hair; it makes you look so nice,” added Symee, in 
such a sweet, lady-like voice, that a stranger would at once 
have been struck by it. The truth was, Symee had been 
at Rushbrook House ever since her childhood, and many a 
game had she shared with her young mistresses. 

Symee never forgot that Mr. Rested had saved her and 
her brother from the work-house, ancj. she tried to repay 


18 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


her benefactor by an untiring devotion to his wife and 
daughters, which devotion they fully appreciated, and 
treated Symee more as a friend than a servant. 

The five minutes were past before Elva managed to fin- 
ish her toilet; and at this moment the door softly opened, 
and Amice Kestell stood on the threshold, looking more 
like some visitant from another world than the sister of 
such an altogether radiant person as Elva. Amice’s face 
was perfectly colorless; so much so, that she appeared to 
be carved out of marble, except for the blue eyes that pos- 
sessed a strange, far-off expression in them, while she had 
a curious habit of clasping her hands straight in front of 
her when she spoke. Even now, though Amice had come 
to say something, it was Elva who spoke first: 

46 Don’t fuss. Amice dear; 1 shall be ready in two 
minutes.” 

Amice was dressed in plain white serge, high at the neck; 
and, thus attired, she contrasted curiously with her sister 
in her dark-blue velvet gown, cut square on her bosom, 
with the row of pearls round her slender throat, and the 
warm, rich coloring of her face. In a tableau the sisters 
would have made a good representation of Life and Death. 

44 Papa will be angry if you keep him waiting,” said 
Amice, nervously. 44 1 am glad I am not going.” 

44 How ridiculous you are, Amice; papa angry, indeed! 
Why, he never is out of temper, is he, Symee? You are 
always saying things like that; it is not fair and just to 
papa.” 

Even in this speech the impulsive generosity of Elva was 
visible. She was devoted to her father, and was ready to 
stand up for him, even though she knew her tone would 
hurt the feelings of her sister. 

44 1 never should say that to a stranger,” said Amice, in 
a voice full of contrition; but certainly it was not Elva 
who frightened her, for she stood gazing with undisguised 
admiration at her as she hurried hither and thither. 

44 There, I am ready; do 1 look nice. Amice?” 

44 Yes, you look beautiful,” said Amice; 44 and oh, dear 
Elva, it was good of you to take my place.” 

44 Good of me! You know I like society; only mamma 
is so upset by your hermit-like ideas. What shall I say to 
Mrs. Eagle Bennison to excuse your absence? Poor Symee, 
you will have something to do to clear my things away.” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


19 


“ Oh, come quickly, Elva; I hear papa calling you,” 
said Amice, seizing her sister's hand. 

The two went down the oak staircase together, hand in 
hand, and Mr. Kestell, who was standing below in the hall, 
saw them plainly as they approached, while the lamp-light 
fell full on his white head; and Elva noted with a smile 
how handsome and how kind was the much-loved face of 
her father. 

Mr. Kestell was of average height; but a slight stoop 
made him appear a little shorter than he was. His head 
was well-shaped and of fine proportions; he wore his white 
hair just touching his coat collar. He had once been likened 
by an enthusiastic and musical lady to “ that dear sweet 
old Liszt.” And certainly there was a slight likeness be- 
tween the well-known genius and Mr. Kestell, the much- 
respected solicitor of Greystone, whose benevolent look and 
clear blue eyes were known to inspire confidence in any one 
who had business dealings with him. At this moment the 
smile that lighted up his face as he watched Elva coming 
down was quite reassuring. A man who smiles is not like- 
ly to be unduly severe, even if his horses have been kept 
waiting a few minutes. 

“ Eh, Miss Elva, five minutes late by the clock; and how 
often have I said the horses are not to be kept waiting by 
you girls? Come, make haste.” 

“ Forgive me, father mine,” said Elva, with a wonder- 
fully bright look. “ Now, don’t forget your manners, but 
give me your arm properly, and hand a lady into her car- 
riage in the most approved fashion. 1 should have been 
longer if Amice and Symee had not helped me.” 

Elva’s words were full of affection, and the tone was that 
of a girl who knew she was loved and spoiled. As Mr. 
Kestell hurried across the hall, he involuntarily glanced 
toward the white figure that stood so motionless at the foot 
of the stairs, and, slightly turning his head, he said: 

“ That was kind of you, Amice. Good-night, my dear; 
you will be asleep when we come back. Take care of your 
mother.” 

Amice’s white lips moved, but if she said anything it was 
inaudible to the two, who were quickly shut into the 
brougham by the help of the footman and the butler. 
Amice waited till the sound of the wheels could no longer 


20 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


be heard, and then she walked to the morning-room, where 
Mrs. Kestell was sitting. 

At a glance one could see that the wife of the rich solic- 
itor was delicate, but it was the delicacy of a woman who 
has all her life been too much considered. No doctor could 
ever give a name to her illness, though one London physi- 
cian, more truthful than wise, had said that there would 
be nothing the matter with Mrs. Kestell if she were a poor 
woman and had to earn her own living. 

“ So they are gone,” she remarked to Amice, who sat 
down near her mother and shivered a little as if the room 
were cold, instead of being much too warm. “Why did 
not Elva come in?” 

“ She was late, and papa was — annoyed at being kept 
waiting.” 

“ Was he? That is strange; he did not seem to mind 
when he was in here. Elva will coax him round. I wish. 
Amice, you were more like her, and that you would try to 
get over your eccentricities. You won’t go into society, 
and even all the money that has been spent on your voice 
is thrown away, as you will sing so seldom.” 

Mrs. Kestell called Amice eccentric, and yet it was diffi- 
cult to define in what way she was so, except in her shyness. 
Otherwise, if anything had to be done of a disagreeable 
nature, it was to Amice the household appealed. 

There was but one very defined, strong feeling which 
Amice allowed others to see in her, and this was her love 
for her sister, and even of this Mrs. Kestell did not alto- 
gether approve. 

“ You know, mamma, that society does not appreciate 
the songs I care to sing.” 

“What nonsense! Elva’s voice is not to be compared 
with yours, and yet she — 1 do believe you would be more 

like other girls if you did not continually shelter yourself 
behind her.” 

Amice did not answer this rebuke, but presently opened 
a book and read aloud till her mother dozed. 

It might almost be said that Mrs.- Kestell had dozed 
through life ever since her marriage with Josiah Kestell. 
He was a gentleman by birth, and had succeeded to a good 
solicitor’s business at Greystone, and this business he had 
trebled by luck and hard work. Now, however, he took 
life more easily, leaving the hard work to his partner, Ed- 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE, 


21 

ward Hope, a cousin of his wife. Mr. Kestell was known 
to be very rich, having a property on which, some twenty- 
three years before, valuable mines had been discovered and 
worked with extraordinary success. The two Miss Kestells 
were therefore known to be endowed with much of this 
world’s goods, and now that they were come out there was 
some speculation as to their future husbands, and, though 
it is unpoetical to mention the fact, several elderly men 
who looked upon Mr. Kestell as their most trusted friend, 
had deeply considered whether they could not improve 
their fortunes by offering themselves as his sons-in-law. 

Mrs. Kestell was of a very good family. She was the 
third daughter of Sir Arthur Ovenden, whose acres were 
few, whose pedigree was long, whose debts were many, and 
whose pride was unlimited. But man must live, and so 
must his daughters, and when Celia Ovenden was wooed 
by Josiah Kestell, gentleman, and solicitor of Greystone, 
Sir Arthur, knowing that if he died suddenly his girls’ por- 
tions would be extremely small, accepted Mr. Kestell’s 
oiler with as good a grace as the owner of so many noble 
ancestors could muster, though at the same time telling 
Josiah Kestell that he formerly had views of his daughter 
Celia marrying a rich man. 

“1 shall be rich,” was Josiah’s answer. “I have an 
excellent business at Greystone, and I will double it. I 
promise you that your daughter shall live as she has been 
accustomed to live.” 

Sir Arthur gave in with a great slidw of reluctance, 
though the truth was, that Celia became at once better off 
than she had been in the parental household. Since then, 
her husband had so well kept his promise that the after- 
dinner theme of poor men was Kestell of Greystone’s fort- 
une. There had not only been hard work to account for it 
— though that had not been wanting — but there had also 
been luck in his mining operations, and, as money has a 
curious affinity with its own kind, money had made money, 
had doubled money, had coined money, so that Mrs. Kestell 
could now patronize the elder sisters who had said slighting 
things about Celia’s marrying only a solicitor. 

Besides money, Mrs. Kestell had a devoted husband. 
For her sake he had bought Rushbrook House; for her 
sake he cultivated society, and entertained as much as was 
possible; and he seemed well rewarded for his trouble if 


22 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


she sometimes expressed a sleepy pleasure at her posses- 
sions, or made the rare exertion to go to a dinner-party. 
But now the girls were grown up, and it seemed very un- 
likely that Mrs. Kestell would ever again exert herself to 
go about with her husband. 

When Amice and her mother had dined, the former 
again read aloud, for Mrs. Kestell liked to listen to the 
musical murmur of her daughter's voice; but the “ Life of 
Sister Dora ” was far beyond the comprehension of Celia 
Kestell, and before ten o’clock she said she would go 
to bed. 

“ And pray, dear Amice, don’t sit up reading; it makes 
you more eccentric. Go to bed, and try and get a little 
color in your cheeks. Undressing at night is a great 
trouble; but I must say that Symee is very quick and 
handy. What a blessing your father’s kindness has turned 
out for us! I’m sure one would often do kind things if 
one could look forward and see how it answers in the end.” 

The bell was rung. A footman lighted the candle and 
opened the doors; the housekeeper came to suggest some 
new dainty to put by the invalid’s bedside; Symee met her 
mistress on the stairs. Thus, with the help of three per- 
sons, Mrs. Kestell retired to bed. 

Left alone in the sitting-room, with its shaded lamps 
and its luxurious chairs, ilmice Kestell breathed a little 
sigh of relief. She went to the window, and, drawing back 
the curtain, she gazed out at the beautiful moonlit bridge, 
the pool, and the great Beacon in the distance. She could 
catch the light in the observatory and on some few smaller 
houses, as if the stars had fallen upon earth; but the beauty 
of the scene did not seem to impress any look of joy on the 
marble-like face. On the contrary, it seemed a little to 
irritate her, and, dropping the heavy folds, Amice began 
slowly pacing the sitting-room with clasped hands and her 
head a little thrown back, apparently quite lost to the 
riches and comforts which surrounded her. 

“ Sister Dora was a grand woman,” she said, talking to 
herself; “ but I prefer Catherine of Sienna. If only one 
could be like her! Oh, why is it impossible? Why do 
things about one seem to tie one down with unbreakable 
chains? It is so difficult, so difficult; and what is right? 
How much of the world can one renounce? Here they are 
angry with me. Mamma wants me to love society, and 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


23 


papa — only Elva has pity on me. My dear, dear sister — 
but she can not understand — she is better than I am, and 
all this gold does not hurt her. It is gold, gold that is 
eating away one's life. How can I get rid of it? But they 
say 1 am wrong, that this feeling is merely self-will and 
pride. Is it true, oh. Heaven? Tell me, and let me know 
the truth." 

So strong was the girl's distress that she paused sudden- 
ly, and kneeling down on the floor, hid her face in her 
hands in mute and tearless agony. 

That undefinable mystery, a young wrestling soul full 
of the realization of its own life and its own hopes and 
fears, its own struggles and attempts at soaring above its 
surroundings, has been over and over again presented to 
the world; and the world, not being able to understand 
the phenomenon, gives to it various gently sarcastic 
names, such as self-deception, spiritual pride, and willful 
ignorance, or, if driven to stronger language, sums it 
all up in the term “superstitious folly." No wonder 
that many — and Amice was one of these — shrink with 
overpowering fear from asking for help from those who 
pretend to answer all riddles; and, instead of begging 
for sympathy, suffer agonies of mental tortures in trying to 
make the spiritual and the physical life join hands. 

Amice took no account of time as she knelt on, till sud- 
denly a slight shiver passed through her, and, rising hastily, 
she walked upstairs. 

As she ascended the low, broad steps, lighted by a large 
window, the branches of an old yew-tree were shaken by 
the night wind; and it seemed as if some bony fingers had 
knocked at the window and signaled to Amice to come out; 
but she heeded nothing, only walked on till she reached a 
small door at the end of a long, uncarpeted passage at the 
top of the house. Here she paused, and knocked softly. 
A faint voice said: “ Come in;" and Amice entered, to 
find her maid Symee lying down on her bed in a bare little 
room, where only the moon gave a fitful light. 

Symee was fully dressed, and only covered up with a 
shawl; but surprise caused her to sit up for a moment as 
her young mistress said: 

“ Symee, your head is bad; undress and go to bed. 
Don't sit up for Miss Elva; I will help her when she, 
comes in, " 


24 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


At the same time Amice put a cool, soft hand on the 
maid's forehead, which sent a momentary delicious relief 
from pain to the aching brow. 

44 Miss Amice, how kind you are! How did you know I 
had a headache? But 1 must sit up." 

44 No, you must go to bed. Make haste; I will come 
back when you are undressed." 

Amice walked softly out of the room; and went to the 
end of the passage, where a window looked out on to the 
sloping lawns and hanging woods of Bushbrook House. 

44 I must hide it," she thought. 44 1 dare not tell any 
one. Is it a gift, or — " She shivered a little. 46 What 
am I saying? That 1 will not have what God gives me. 
How can I be so wicked? Surely we are children in God's 
hands, and yet have we free will. How can both things be 
possible? How are we to guide ourselves, and yet be 
guided by God?" 

This puzzling thought filled the girl's mind till she re- 
turned to her maid, whom she found in bed, but hardly 
able to bear the terrible pain in her head. 

44 Miss Amice, please put your hand on my head again," 
she moaned, 4 4 it is so cool." 

44 1 will," said Amice; and kneeling down on the bare 
boards, she once more placed her soft, cool hand on 
Symee's head. And had any one been present they would 
have seen her white figure lighted up with dancing moon- 
beams, which, as they now and then touched her pale face, 
showed that her lips were moving. 

After a short silence Symee spoke. 

44 Oh, Miss Amice, it seems like a miracle. The pain is 
going; thank you so very much. I feel sleepy; and yet I 
thought just now I should be awake all night." 

44 Hush!" said Amice; and when, after a little while, 
she rose from her knees, Symee was sleeping as quietly as 
a tired child after a day's pleasure. 


CHAPTER II. - 

DINNER AND A CRITIC. 

Court Garden was in its way a perfect country-house, 
and the squire was loved and respected by all his tenants: 
but to the wo^ld in general he was known as the husband 
of Mrs. Eagle B'umison. This was his title of honor, and 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


25 


he was proud to accept it. He always showed the same 
imperturbable front to the world; while his wife was, on 
the whole, like a highly cut diamond, many-sided. She 
had her sprightly mood, her sad mood, her religious mood, 
her worldly, her playful, her would-be child-like, and her 
pathetic mood. No one had ever yet found out which of 
these many moods was most natural to her, and if any 
one ventured to decide this knotty point, he soon avowed 
himself wrong. 

Mrs. Eagle Bennison’s dinner-parties were always pleas- 
ant; for, in spite of her own personality being never for- 
gotten, the squire’s wife was not unwilling that others, 
when in her house, should shine; and as she had a kind of 
child-like simplicity, in spite of her great artificiality, she 
somehow made opposite elements fuse together from sheer 
surprise at her audacity. 

To describe her would need time; for how can pen do 
justice to the various lights and shades that flitted over the 
pretty face of Mrs. Eagle Bennison? Her age could not 
be guessed, for trouble had never made wrinkles; her 
bright eyes were never hidden by •pince-nez or spectacles, 
though she was known to be short-sighted; her teeth — 
were they hers except by purchase?— looked like pearly 
treasures, and were so often exhibited when she smiled, 
that at last one learned to expect the vision just as regu- 
larly as, but more frequently than, the cuckoo of a Swiss 
clock. She had no gray hairs, though what aid to ever- 
lasting color she used was not revealed; and as for the rest 
of her appearance, she was not tall, but rather short and 
neat; her hands were plump and white, and profusely 
ornamented with jewels which had descended from the 
Eagles, the Bennisons, and the Eagle Bennisons. These 
precious stones were unfailing subjects of conversation; 
for girls were of course delighted to hear that this diamond 
ring had once belonged to Lady Eagle when her husband 
was Governor of Bengal, and that the present Mrs. Eagle 
Bennison had inherited it through dear Sir Joseph Eagle, 
with whom she had been a prime favorite. 

But enough of the hostess, for dinner is going on, and 
the squire’s mutton is being eaten and praised, and Elva 
Kesteli is listening to her neighbors’ remarks with a smile, 
a really natural smile, on her lips. Mrs. Eagle Bennison’s 
cousin, George Guthrie, was so often at Court Garden that 


26 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


he was almost one of the household; and Elva was glad she 
had been taken in by him this evening, for she was in no 
mood to be pleasant, and George was glad of a listener, 
and he was always good company. There was a twinkle 
in his eyes, though seldom a smile on his lips, when he 
spoke. He was a confirmed bachelor, and having known 
Elva from childhood, they were on those intimate terms 
which are as delightful as they are rare. They called each 
other by their Christian names, and ideas of matrimony 
never crossed their minds. 

Elva and her father having arrived a little late, she had 
not much noticed the other guests, till, now that she had 
time to look round, she saw a stranger, with a clever, re- 
fined face, talking to a young lady with straw-colored com- 
plexion, and hair, eyelashes, and dress of the same shade. 
The others Elva knew well; there was the Honorable Wal- 
ter Akister and his sister Betta. Lord Cartmel, their fa- 
ther, was dreamily listening to Mrs. Bennison; but Elva 
saw that he was really up in the moon. 

George Guthrie saw Elva's glance, and said: 

“ Isn't my dear cousin radiant to-night? but it's all lost 
on his lordship. By the way, she told me it was Amice 
who was to be my lady, and that I was to make her talk 
about the world. What queer things we poor bachelors, 
who have no idea of marrying, are given to do. The other 
day a mamma said: ‘Dear Mr. Guthrie, you are such a 
safe man, now do win my poor Georgie's confidence, and 
make her give up young Henry Parker. You know he has 
nothing a year, and must make up his mind to be a bache- 
lor.' " 

George Guthrie slightly imitated the voice of the fond 
parent, so that Elva could not help laughing. 

“You were offended by the word bachelor; perhaps 
some day we shall have to congratulate a Mrs. Guthrie — 
but that would be funny!" 

“ Funny; why funny, pray? That is* like the imperti- 
nence of the young. Let me give you a piece of advice, 
my dear Elva. A man of my age can offer advice gratis, 
and expect it to be received graciously, and my ad rice to 
you is, don't marry the first man who asks you; if you do, 
you are sure to repent." 

“ I hate all men this evening," said Elva, and the words 


KESTELL OF GREYSTON'E. 


27 


of “ The Current Eeader ” rose before her eyes. “ They 
are so conceited, so prejudiced!” 

“ What makes you so indignant this evening? Not the 
first offer?” 

“ Oh, no, no, only a snub. I want to do something 
worth doing in the world, and at every turn 1 am stopped, 
because I am only a woman.” 

“ 6 1 charge thee fling away ambition V Why you are 
ambitious and rich. Good heavens, Elva, what terrible 
fate will overtake you?” 

“ Don’t tease me. 1 am in earnest. 1 mean to begin 
life again.” 

66 Humph! How does one manage that? But look 
round even this dinner-table, and you will see how very 
well the world gets on without grand ideas and without 
brains. We will leave Lord Cartmel out of the question, 
he is all brains, but his son and daughter — on that point 
silence! Then my dear cousin, she has no brains; but she 
appreciates those who have. See how happy she is this 
evening because she has a new lion.” 

Elva looked up, and, curiously enough, met the eyes of 
the stranger, and the magic murmur of introduction not 
having been pronounced, she looked quickly down again 
without any look of recognition; but she felt amazed at 
the stranger’s personal notice. 

64 1 suppose you mean the man opposite— who is he?” 

“A literary man. Some day I shall become one. I 
know the tricks of the trade. Put on in general company 
a slightly supercilious look, despise your neighbors without 
saying so in words, smile when they give their opinions 
about books, have abundant notes on scraps of paper put 
away somewhere for a future book, and never give a direct 
answer, and — well, then you are a full-fledged literary 
man. It is easy enough.” 

“ But you forget the book that is published,” said Elva, 
thinking of the crushing review, and feeling very thankful 
George did not know about it. 

“ Not at all, that is by no means necessary; it does just 
as well if you review the works of other people.” 

“ And crush them?” 

“ Or praise them, if written by a friend.” 

“ Is that ever done?” 


28 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


44 1 advise you to try. Only first make friends with the 
gentleman opposite; he is a reviewer. ” 

“ A reviewer! What, is his name, or is it a secret?” 

“A secret! I should imagine not, as I see his name 
often in 4 The Current Reader. ' Ah, you were not intro- 
duced because you came late, and my cousin knew you 
were to be posted up by me.” 

“What nonsense you are talking this evening,” said 
Elva, determined not to ask the name of the lion. 

There were six or seven men who reviewed novels in 
44 The Current Reader,” and this one had perhaps read the 
review which had pained her so much. 

44 Nonsense! You are not complimentary! If I were 
Lord George Guthrie, and you a young lady of ton and 
fashion, you would think me clever, and my talk fascinat- 
ing. What is it Lear says? 4 Through tattered clothes 
small vices do appear; robes and furred gowns hide all.* ” 

44 1 don't suppose reviewers are rich; they can't be, or 
they wouldn't be so spiteful,” said Elva. 

44 Don't be sarcastic! Do you see that my cousin can 
not hear all that the lion is saying, but she laughs just the 
same. I call that good manners.” 

44 1 call it being unreal.” 

44 You have not seen much of society yet.” 

44 1 have had about six months of it; I waited for Amice, 
but now she is out she won't go anywhere. Mamma 
doesn't understand that it is really from shyness.” 

44 L give you a year to reform. After that, Elva, you 
will not say what you think; you will not wish to do some- 
thing which no one else does, and you will not stare so 
much at literary lions.” 

Yes, Elva was staring, for the straw-colored lady had 
just made a remark. 

44 Mr. Fenner, do tell me the name of the last novel you 
reviewed.” 

44 What did she call him?” said Elva, trying to speak 
naturally, though she felt the hot color rush to her cheeks. 

44 Fenner, Hoel Fenner. Perhaps you have never 
noticed his name, but he is a rising man, only at Rush- 
brook we are so ignorant of our greatest men. In that 
way we represent the world.” 

44 Hoel Fenner! Y T es, I have seen his name. Why did 
he come here?” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 29 

“He was staying with the Heatons at St. John's Par- 
sonage." 

“ Quite near to us," gasped Elva, for St. John's was a 
church which nestled in a hr plantation at the foot of the 
Beacon, and which Mr. Eagle Bennison's father had built 
for the scattered hamlet known as Rushbrook Mills. Mr. 
Heaton and his sister were both dining here this evening, 
-and had asked if they might bring Mr. Hoel Fenner with 
them. 

George Guthrie found Elva so silent after this that he 
turned toward his other neighbor. Miss Heaton, and by 
the time the ladies left the room he had discussed all the 
poor of Rushbrook Mills, with whom the amusing bache- 
lor was a great favorite. 

When the last sweep of the last train had rustled away, 
there was a general relaxation of the manly muscles; the 
squire leaned back in his chair, and George Guthrie bent 
forward. Walter Akister crossed his legs and turned side- 
ways; the decanters solemnly went round in the fashion of 
a Parliamentary train, stopping with jerks at each station 
to discharge contents, and the whole manly company 
seemed to say, “ Now we can be natural, there is no lady 
to make conversation for." 

This was ungenerous conduct, for in the drawing-room 
the ladies were finding each other dull, their last sallies of 
wit being reserved till the men should appear. 

George Guthrie, this evening, felt more drawn toward 
the stranger, Hoel Fenner. He knew all the squire's 
thoughts as translated in his meager vocabulary by heart. 
Walter Akister always froze up his geniality, for that young 
man was shy and not very good-tempered; besides, Mr. 
Guthrie, who was as clear-sighted as a woman, had dis- 
covered that young Walter spent a good deal of his time in 
looking at Elva Kestell, and he bore him a grudge for this. 
Lord Cartmel could not keep off sun, moon, and stars for 
long together, and George Guthrie had no turn for astron- 
omy; but the stranger's face did interest him, so he 
changed his place and went and sat by him. 

“ You have no wine, Mr. Fenner; what shall 1 pass 
you?" 

“ Thank you, no more." 

“ A moderate drinker is the man most denounced just 
now," said George Guthrie, his face lighting up with his 


30 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


peculiar smile of quiet amusement; 46 one expects an in- 
mate of Grub Street to be accompanied by a large bowl of 
punch and a soaked towel round his temples. I have just 
been telling Miss Kestell that if she ever treads the path of 
literature you are a man to be feared/ 7 

Hoel Fenner was intensely amused* and this look suited 
his face well. He was certainly handsome, without being 
an Adonis; tall, well-made; keen, deep-set hazel eyes; hair 
coming rather low down on his broad forehead, a mustache 
that did not hide a well-cut mouth, and a clean-shaven, 
strongly marked chin and contour. His hands were 
specially noticeable in that they were delicately formed 
and yet strong in appearance — such hands as born sur- 
geons possess. 

44 Miss Kestell. Was that the name of the lady on your 
right? It must have been something you said then which 
made her look at me so severely. Who is she? 1 am a 
stranger here. 1 have known Mr. Heaton only a few 
months. We met last year at Zermatt, and he kindly 
asked me to come and see him in his lovely vicarage/ 7 

44 Every one about here knows Kestell pere. There he 
sits, on the right; has general benevolence written on all 
his features, and as far as 1 know, he deserves it. Has 
made heaps of money, 4 oof/ our youngsters call it. 1 
wish you literary men could find out the derivation of 
slang words. A slang Max Muller would benefit mankind. 
That's by the way. As for Kestell, he has got all the 
county business; knows everybody's affairs. He's getting 
old now, and has a cousin, Edward Hope, as partner; but 
he won't be equal to Kestell of Greystone. Through his 
wife, the latter is connected with some of our best families. 
Our county magnates enjoy a fame which you in London 
seldom get. He has only two daughters. The family 
lives a mile or so from here, in a house that was once a 
large mill, but is really, as Mrs. Eagle Bennison says, a 
4 gem/ now Bushbrook House. Elva Kestell, the one 
here this evening, is the elder. If the mother could take 
them out in London, we should soon lose them, because 
money, you know, is better than beauty in these days. I 
don't admire Elva's face; but I've heard people say it is 
artistic. I don't know anything about art. The other. 
Amice, well, entre nous , I never can be sure that she is 
quite sound in the upper story — looks at you with great 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 31 

blue eyes that make one feel creepy. Now you know the 
family history.” 

44 An epitome worthy of 4 Lodge's Peerage/ ” saidHoel. 
Then, looking across at Mr. Kestell, he added, 44 How 
comes it that he is such a rich man? One doesn't expect 
solicitors to be noted for riches.'' 

44 I've heard people make that remark before; but I sup- 
pose he has been lucky; owns some mines somewhere, and 
worked hard. When I look at Kestell I feel that he is a 
living reproach to me, because I was born lazy. 1 spend 
months here, because my cousin Eagle Bennison says I help 
him; but it's a matter on which we differ.'' 

Hoel was really amused with this genial bachelor, whose 
face teamed with an expression of fun, or assumed one of 
the mock heroic. One could not be melancholy in his com- 
pany; there were only a few who knew that under his 
stout, portly exterior beat a heart as soft as any woman's. 

Here the squire's voice was heard above the general din: 

44 Local option indeed! You can't trust townsfolk at all; 
they can not forget their own interests. Money-getting is 
the curse of the age.” 

Mr. Kestell's answer was distinct: 

44 You are a little hard, squire, on men who must make 
their fortune or leave their children beggars.” 

64 Kestell's right,” said George Guthrie. 44 We who 
have fixed incomes are ready enough to throw stones at 
floating capital.” 

44 Still it is true that our British conversation nearly 
always kirns upon money,” remarked Hoel. 44 Even our 
literature seems saturated with it. Ten novels out of 
twelve turn on somebody's fortune. Love is so mixed up 
with gold that we begin to doubt its separate existence.” 

44 Here you speak in Elva's fashion. Miss Kestell has 
always visionary ideas about regenerating man and wom- 
an, and ends by — ” 

44 By what?” said Hoel, who had been more interested 
in Elva's face than he had cared to show. 

44 By some very commonplace finale, which shows that 
mortals are quite incapable of carrying out their own 
theories. But I must introduce her to you.” 

44 Miss Kestell has a well-formed head. I may be wrong* 
but 1 fancy that in London she would be run after.” 

44 For her money,” added George Guthrie. 44 No; I 


32 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


hope better things for my pupil; she and I have quarreled 
ever since she was five years old/’ 

When the gentlemen trooped into the drawing-room, 
looking somewhat sheepish and awkward, and eager to be 
lost in a crowd, yet quite unable to accomplish this feat, 
George Guthrie drew Mr. Fenner at once toward the cor- 
ner where Elva was sitting. 

“Elva, let me introduce Mr. Fenner to you. He be- 
lieves in all the impossibilities of life, so 1 expect you will 
agree perfectly. ” 

44 On the contrary,” said Hoel, taking a chair beside 
her, 44 I have a firm faith in the possible, not the impossi- 
ble; but I do strongly object to making money the theme 
of every novel, newspaper article, and periodical perora- 
tion.” 

Hoel accompanied his words with a smile, which few 
women ever stood out against; but he noticed, being by 
nature a practiced observant, that Miss KestelFs face re- 
mained cold. 

44 There may be many worse things than the wish to 
make money, I think. Some persons, who care nothing 
about riches, are quite as insolent as the purse-proud men 
who disgust one with their ostentation.” 

This was such a curious answer to receive from a young 
lady in a drawing-room, that Hoel took a yet closer 
scrutiny of the speaker. Yes, she was more than pict- 
uresque; the head was well posed; the gray eyes were capa- 
ble of varied expression; the mobile mouth and clear com- 
plexion were all noticeable; but Elva’s nose not jjeing of 
any classical form, prevented her from becoming noted for 
beauty. However, apart from looks there was a certain 
passion of life in the girl which Hoel quickly noted, and 
which he thought very uncommon in one so young. He 
took the trouble of putting her crude thought into a bet- 
ter setting. 

“You mean that insolence, not money-getting, is the 
sin of the age. It is a new idea, and I shall think it over.” 

Elva was a woman, and as such she was flattered. 

“ I meant something like that; but,” more hotly, “ I 
am afraid to talk to a critic. I — I see your reviews in 
4 The Current Reader . 9 ” 

44 It's weary work reviewing novels,” said Hoel, little 
guessing that he was heaping up the sum of his iniquity. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 83 

44 1 suppose it must be from the way you spoke of a 
novel this week.” 

4 4 Which one was that?” said Hoel, smiling, in spite of 
himself, at this girFs energy and unconscious sarcasm. 

4 4 4 An Undine of To-day . 9 When I read it, Mr. Fen- 
ner, I pitied that poor author. 1 should think you will 
stop all his future ideas.” 

44 Oh, yes, I remember. But, honestly, you would not 
have me praise such crude work? The lady — you said his, 
but it is certainly a lady — must have written out of the 
fullness of a very young heart. You forget the sacredness 
of art; it is no easy thing to write a novel. And what 
would happen if critics praised the first daub of a would- 
be artist — called it equal to a Raphael?” 

Elva had made the effort of appearing natural, so that 
it never entered HoeFs mind he was speaking to the author 
of the novel in question. None the less was there war in 
Elya's heart. 

44 But clever critics see the promise of future good work, 
and say so; at least, that is my idea of a good critic.” 

She had thrown down the glove in good earnest; but 
again she saw HoeFs aggravating smile. 

44 Have you read 4 AmieFs Journal?* 4 Plus on a de 
puissance intellect aelle, plus il est dangereux de mat pren- 
dre et de mal commencer la vie,’ he says in it. Well, we 
critics are doing a kindness in preventing people from be- 
ginning badly their literary career. Honestly, if the dia- 
mond is stili in its lump of blue clay, what pleasure does 
the world get from it? Unless the author can wash off 
the clay it is better to leave the diamond in its native bed.” 

44 Wherever it is, the diamond is a diamond.” 

44 1 see you are bent on abusing critics. Miss Kestell. I 
must accept some blame for our tribe; but only partially. 
No one can write words that will have a moral value un- 
less they have seen life under some of its most painful as- 
pects. I don't mean the turbulent life of society scandals; 
but the personal life of conflict in the region of thought. 
A life of suffering, spiritual suffering, may transform peo- 
ple whom the world call prosperous. 1 fancy the author 
of the 4 Undine * has never suffered, but has crude ideas of 
what she calls 4 the soul.' By the way, what a useful 
word it is in the mouth of those who have hardly any un- 


34 


KESTELL OE GREV STONE. 


derstanding of the word, and but a slight belief in the 
reality. ” 

Elva was going to answer vehemently; but at this mo- 
ment Mrs. Eagle Bennison tripped toward them, showing 
a dissolving view of her pearly teeth. 

“Mr. Fenner, are you giving some of your wisdom to 
dear Elva? If so, I don’t like asking you to spare her; 
but I do want her to come and sing to us. You and Amice 
have such charming voices. My dear, how well your fa- 
ther looks this evening. Such a noble head, isn’t it, Mr. 
Fenner? Come and sing ‘ Dreams,’ Elva.” 

“ Not to-night. 1 couldn’t sing,” said Elva, decided- 
ly. “ Miss Akister will do it much better than 1 can.” 

“ Then do open the piano for her, Mr. Fenner,” added 
Mrs. Bennison, when Miss Akister had consented, for she 
decided that Elva must not monopolize the lion. 

Elva remained alone, but her thoughts were busy. 

“ He talks beautifully; but — no, I am sure he has not 
suffered. I can see that in his calm, handsome face. He 
thinks a great deal of himself and fancies he is always 
right. ” 

“ Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” said a voice 
close behind her. It was Walter Akister. 

Betta, his sister, was so shy and awkward, that she sel- 
dom mixed in the society of Rushbrook, having to keep all 
her energies for the scientific friends of her father; but 
Walter, who had the misfortune to be both unpolished and 
queer-tempered, often strolled down to the valley and 
spent a good deal of time on the lawn of Rushbrook House 
in the summer, and on the pools during skating-time. 
Only George Guthrie had noticed the seeds of his admira- 
tion for Elva. Certainly she was unaware of it, and would 
have laughed the idea to scorn. Walter had none of the 
glamour in which a son of a nobleman is supposed to be 
usually enveloped; and as for the word lover, it was almost 
impossible for a girl, with any romantic tendencies, to as- 
sociate it with Walter Akister; but, unfortunately, he con- 
stantly looked upon himself in this light, without having 
the least power of showing it. Even now, though he 
thought Elva looking beautiful, his tone was one of rough 
fellowship more than one mixed with any tender feeling. 

“ I can’t speak across a room,” said Elva, not taking 
the trouble even to smile. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


35 


Walter was easily repulsed, or, rather, he imagined ‘sar- 
casm where none was intended. Elva had no idea of re- 
pulsing him any more than if a boy of twelve had ad- 
dressed her. She did not understand his passionate nature. 

44 I’m going to London to-morrow, can I do anything 
for you? What’s that fellow been saying to you?” 

64 Mr. Hoel Fenner is a literary man.” 

Elva did not quite like Walter Akister’s tone. 

44 They’re all such conceited stuck-up people.” 

44 Please don’t talk, there’s your sister beginning to 
sing.” 

Walter moved away with a frown on his face. He was 
angry with Elva and angry with himself, and yet he could 
not accuse her of anything unusual. Amice always list- 
ened to him patiently, but Elva never pretended to en- 
courage his visits. 

The party broke up early, Mr. Kestell being the first to 
make a move, as he could bring forward a delicate wife as 
an excuse. In the hall Elva found Mr. Fenner standing 
close by her to help her with her wraps, while the vicar 
was enveloping his sister in sundry shawls as they were 
walking home. While waiting for the carriage, Hoel again 
admired Mr. Kestell’s noble head. No wonder, thought 
he, that his daughter is so good-looking. Elva meant to 
keep silence, but her father remarked: 

44 1 shall be delighted if Mr. Heaton will bring you to 
see our views, that is, if you are making any stay here.” 

Elva softly stamped her foot with impatience. How 
very tiresome her father was to ask this stranger! 

44 Thank you, but my stay is short here; still, I think I 
have seldom seen a prettier neighborhood. It combines, 
as a guide-book would say, 4 perfect nature and perfect 
art.’” 

44 Then you are not entirely in love with pavements?” 

44 No, indeed, I used to live in the country as a boy, but 
one gets accustomed to one’s surroundings. Still, I know 
some country fellows who can not get reconciled to Lon- 
don. I made the acquaintance of one a little while ago; 
he is very clever, and is mastering all sorts of things in his 
spare time, which can only be of use to him in London, 
and yet he told me the craving for country life was his 
greatest hinderance.” 


3(3 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


*“ I should like to know that man/* said Elva, forgetting 
her wrath. “ I could never bear to live in London.** 

“ By the way, I think Jesse Yicary said he came from 
this county.** 

“Jesse Yicary! We know him quite well, his sister 
is — ** 

“ Elva, here is the carriage, make haste,** said Mr. Kes- 
tell, quickly drawing his daughter away, so that ELoel could 
only bow and turn away. 

Elva, once comfortably seated by her father*s side, put 
her arm through his, and fell into a meditation, so she did 
not notice Mr. Kestell*s unusual silence. 

Outside the beautiful valley was bathed in soft light, 
every now and then the overhanging trees plunged them 
into deep shadow; then, when they emerged into a clear- 
ing, they could see the glimmer of the silent pools they 
were passing. 

“ Papa, isn*t Rushbrook a perfect place? can you won- 
der that Jesse Vicary pines for it?** 

There was no answer, and Elva turned quickly toward 
her father; his face expressed deep thought, and he did 
not seem to have heard her. 

“ Papa, what are you thinking of? Don’t ask Mr. 
Hoel Fenner to Rushbrook. 1 don’t like him.** 

Mr. Kestell was now all attention. 

“ 1 beg your pardon, dear. I was thinking of some- 
thing Lord Cartmel wanted done for him. Mr. Hoel Fen- 
ner, oh, certainly not, 1 do not much care about these 
literary lions; they suit Mrs. Eagle Bennison, however.** 

Mr. Kestell laughed, and Elva wondered why his laugh 
sounded a little joyless. 

“ Poor old dad, you are tired; you hate parties. Well, 
here is our own dear pool.** 

“ And make haste to bed, child, so as not to lose your 
roses and become as pale as Amice. Good-night.** 


CHAPTER III. 

BROTHER AND SISTER. 

Mr. Kestell stood still a moment in the dimly lighted 
hall when Elva had gone upstairs. Jones was folding up 
the carriage-rug, and did not notice him till he was sur- 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 37 

prised by being addressed in a very impatient manner; for 
certainly the master was not usually hasty of speech. 

44 The fire is out in the sitting-room, Jones. Why was 
it not kept up?” 

44 There is a good fire in your own study, sir. I didn't 
know — there were no orders.” 

Mr. Kestell was himself again in a moment. 

4 6 Ah, yes; of course that is all right. Don't sit up any 
longer, Jones. 1 have a little work to do, so if you hear 
any noise, you need not be alarmed.” 

Jones said: 44 Thank you, sir,” and walked away, not 
before he had noticed that his master's face looked white 
and drawn. 

Mr. Kestell walked quickly across the hall, opened his 
study-door, and closed it softly behind him. His moment 
of impatience was quickly over, and Jones decided that his 
master had eaten something indigestible at dinner. 

44 It's all show at Mr. Heagle Bennison's,” muttered the 
butler; 44 here it's solid worth from the beef to the cream. 
Some bad cooking has made master cross- tempered; him 
as is usually as mild as milk.” 

Mr. Kestell looked round his study, as if he expected to 
see some one seated there. In reality he was hardly con- 
scious of his own actions as he put his hand in his pocket, 
and went and stood by the fireside. The bright flames 
flickered and crackled cheerfully, and sent their reflected 
light upon the long, white hair of that venerable head. 

Everything in the room spoke of comfort and unostenta- 
tious luxury — that luxury which refreshes the mind instead 
of oppressing it. But the glances of Josiah Kestell re- 
mained uneasy, unsatisfied, as he glanced occasionally 
round him. He was thinking of the future. 

44 Elva and Amice are well provided for, and there will 
be a handsome jointure for poor Celia. I have worked 
hard for it — no one can deny that, say what they will — but 
I kept my word. Celia has never wanted anything, 
neither have the girls. They must marry young. 1 hate 
society; but, for their sake, I must exert myself to have 
more company here. Not tuft-hunters, but honest men, 
who will look after them. Elva is impulsive, but she is 
easily led by affection. She and 1 understand each other; 
she will do as 1 like.” A smile of intense affection seemed 
to pass over his face and disappear again, like a wintery 


38 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


gleam before rain. 44 But Amice,” he continued, 44 1 can 
not understand her. She is full of Quixotic ideas. The 
sooner she learns to give up her own will to a husband the 
better.” 

The name of Amice, however, brought no proud smile 
to his lips. Little as it had appeared, Mr. Kestell had 
noted the look of fear on his daughter’s face as she had 
come down -stairs. 

44 Afraid of me,” he continued, mentally. “Amice 
afraid of me! And yet I have never been harsh to her; 
not even when she sits still, and looks me through with 
those blue eyes of hers. She does it to everybody now — a 
terribly bad habit to get into. But Elva sees no faults in 
her sister; she would be shocked if I mentioned it. How 
foolish I am this evening! What was it? . . . Yes; it was 
that Hoel Fenner. Well, well, a mere accident. It is 
quite impossible, quite.” 

And Mr. Kestell, of Greystone, who was so much re- 
spected and trusted by all the county, went on pacing his 
study as if he were on the brink of bankruptcy, instead of 
being one of the most wealthy man in the county; but 
riches alone can not always make quiet hearts. 

This long meditation was evidently a very unusual pro- 
ceeding, for, when the clock struck one, Mr. Kestell paused 
and felt annoyed with himself at having sat up so late. 
Lighting a candle, set in a massive silver candlestick, he 
softly opened the door for fear of waking any of the house- 
hold. He stepped very quietly up the oak staircase. The 
tall clock on the stairs was behiud time, and, just as the 
master was passing, its internal machinery began making 
a weird noise preparatory to striking. Mr. Kestell glanced 
up and noted the staring face of the representative sun, 
peeping up above the two round hemispheres at the top of 
the dial. This face had a wicked look in its eyes, and it 
seemed to ask Kestell of Greystone what he meant by walk- 
ing about at this late hour. Mr. Kestell, turning away im- 
patiently from the deriding eyes, seemed inclined to quarrel 
with the foolish solar representation which some quaint 
fancy of the fifteenth century had taken a pride in depict- 
ing. 

44 1 must get those works mended,” thought Mr. Kes- 
tell, passing on quickly. 44 That idiotic sun has got stuck. 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 39 

and it is always in the same place, now 1 come to think of 
it. It is years since I saw the moon.” 

Very softly he trod; for, of course, every one was asleep 
at Rushbrook House. His wife could not bear to be dis- 
turbed, so he was going to his own room. To accomplish 
this, he had to pass the doors of his daughters* rooms. The 
first was Elva’s. Here all was still, dark; but what was 
Mr. Kestell astonishment when he perceived a thin streak 
of light issuing from below the door? Amice was then still 
up; or had she by chance left the candle alight? Mr. Res- 
ted had a nervous dread of fire, so he paused and listened. 
At first he heard no sound, then suddenly a soft rustle, as 
of a woman’s sweeping skirt. Next, a gentle footstep, as 
if Amice were approaching the door. Was she going to 
open it, and stand before him with her great blue eyes? It 
may sound strange and unnatural; but the mind of man is 
so curiously complex, that what appears to ordinary under- 
standing odd, would, if we knew the many paths which the 
brain traverses before it reaches action, look perfectly 
natural. At this moment an uncontrollable terror of his 
own child seized hold of Mr. Kestell; and, not pausing to 
see if his imaginary picture were going to be realized, he 
hurried away, and, without looking back, he entered his 
own room and locked the door with a noisy bang. 

The next day the Kestell household awoke to its ordinary 
routine. Breakfast was at nine, and at a quarter to ten 
the carriage usually drove round to take the master to the 
station. Punctuality was a mania with Mr. Kestell; and 
by dint of gentle reproof he had succeeded in making his 
daughters and his servants punctual. His wife was past 
all reform. It had remained impressed on her mind that 
it was the mark of good breeding to care nothing about 
time; and now she still clung to this tradition, and came 
down at uncertain hours. Symee spent the whole morning 
in taking and receiving messages to various persons in the 
house from Mrs. Kestell; happily the girl had naturally a 
sweet temper, or she would long ago have preferred to beg 
her bread than perform her tiresome duties. Gratitude 
also helped her; for Mr. Kestell had saved her and her 
brother Jesse from the work-house. She had been told 
that her grandmother had died when she and her twin 
brother were but babies in arms. Mr. Kestell had gener- 
ously stepped forward, paid all the debts, and undertaken 


40 


Kestell of greystone. 


to support the orphans. Could such kindness ever be for- 
gotten? thought Symee, over and over again, as she bore 
all Mrs. KestelFs fidgets. Mr. Kestell had done even more 
for Jesse than for her. fie had got him into a free gram- 
mar-school where the teaching was excellent; and the boy 
having proved worthy of help, Mr. Kestell had procured 
him a clerk’s stool in a merchant’s office. His salary was 
small, but his hopes were great. What cheerful letters he 
wrote to his sister; and what golden visions he placed be- 
fore her on paper! till Symeefelt that all her troubles were 
worth bearing for the sake of her future life with Jesse. 
This very morning Symee had had one of these epistles 
containing these words: 

46 When I am rich enough, Symee dear, you will come 
and live with me, and we shall get on first rate. But we 
must never forget that we owe our happiness to one man, 
the best, the kindest man on earth. For Mr. KestelFs 
sake, dear, put up with the worries you tell me of. Miss 
Amice, Heaven bless her for it, is always good to you, you 
say; but you shall not always be a servant. 1 am very am- 
bitious, but it is for your sake, and also — something within 
me seems to urge me on to do my best, and I do not think 
this is wrong. When I see the people round me wasting 
some of their best powers — for some of these poor men are 
very clever, but can not keep from drink — then I feel that 
God will require our talents of us, and that He will show 
us a picture of what we might have been, and ask us to 
answer for what we are. Yes, you and I are the children 
of honest, if poor people, Symee; but we have had many 
blessings to answer for, and yet we, too, may hear some 
day the 4 Well done/ A little while ago I made the ac- 
quaintance of a literary gentleman, who promises me some 
delightful work. Will he remember? 1 liked his face, and 
I saw at once the wide difference between him and a man 
like me. He seemed to know everything without being 
aware that he knew it. He looked to me like a bit of 
highly polished steel, and I felt like just a bar of pig-iron. 
But, anyhow, there’s work in this big world for both of us. 
I don’t mean to get discouraged when 1 study my neigh- 
bors. Sometimes I feel like the man whose head is weak, 
and who is standing on the top of a high tower; the feeling 
comes over him to throw himself down. Well, here it’s the 
same in another sort of way. Why should one keep walking 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


41 


upward? Why not finish the struggle, and cast one’s self 
down? God forgive me the thought, but it comes. Why am I 
telling you all this, Symee? I have no one else to write 
out my thoughts to; and it does me good at times; though 
even to you I couldn’t write all that a man here has to go 
through. But there’s the blessed work. It was not a curse 
God gave, but a blessing, when He said that we were to 
work. Oh! if we could get this idea well into our minds. 
Good-bye; if I hear any more of Mr. Hoel Fenner — that’s 
the gentleman’s name — I’ll tell you. He says 1 might in 
time do good work with my short-hand and my writing.” 

Symee had read this epistle, while snatching a few 
mouthfuls of late breakfast. And just at that moment 
Jones looked solemnly into the housekeeper’s room. 

44 Miss Vicary, please, the master wants you in his pri- 
vate study at once.” 

Symee folded up her precious letter, and hurried to Mr. 
Kestell’s room, blushing from shyness. When she heard 
the words, 44 Come in,” and saw her benefactor’s benign 
face, she was soon reassured. 

44 I won’t detain you long, Symee,” he began, kindly. 
44 1 wanted to know if you had heard from your brother 
lately; and how is he getting on? 1 thought — ” 

He paused, and Symee filled up the pause. 

4 6 Oh, sir, he’s doing very well. It’s hard work, of 
course, and he has to be careful; but in time he’ll get on, 
I know he will. And Jesse would rather starve than get 
into debt, and bring discredit on you, sir, who have been 
so kind—” 

44 That’s nothing — nothing at all, Symee. I was glad to 
help him. Of course, there were expenses when you were 
both young, but 1 never grudged them. I spent the origi- 
nal sum that — that I had put away for that purpose. You 
have nothing to complain of, have you, Symee? Nothing 
you wish altered?” 

Symee’s whole soul seemed filled and overflowing with 
gratitude; not for all the world would she have mentioned 
any of her troubles, had these been greater even than they 
were. 

44 Oh, no, no, sir. You have been so good to me and 
Jesse.” 

“ Tut, tut; you are a good girl, Symee. You have 
much influence with your twin brother. It is very natural; 


42 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


a woman is older for her years than a man at your age. 
Use your influence well, Symee. For instance, if Jesse 
should wish to — try some other walk in life, remind him 
that a rolling stone gathers no moss; but, as all young 
men have aspirations, tell him, from me, Symee, that I 
shall always be glad to hear his plans. I don’t wish to 
dictate to him, but I think 1 may justly expect to be kept 
informed of his doings. Strangers may take him in ; they 
may lead him on for their own purposes, and then deceive 
him. ” 

Symee was at once filled with anxiety. 

44 Do you think so, sir? Only this morning Jesse was 
telling me of a gentleman who was going to help him. A 
Mr. Hoel Fenner. Shall I tell him to have nothing to do 
with him?” 

Symee at first doubted if she ought to betray her broth- 
er’s confidence; but was not Mr. Kestell, as he said, en- 
titled to know everything about them both? 

Mr. Kestell put out his hand and carefully tidied some 
letters on his table. 

64 1 don’t say that, mind, Symee. I say nothing. I 
only wish to give you a general warning.” 

44 Oh, sir, Jesse is ambitious. That is what I am afraid 
of; and it is for my sake, I know.” 

44 You are a very sensible girl, Svmee. Keep your 
brother out of mischief. Let him stick to Card & Lilley’s 
office, and, though he may not get very rich, still he will 
rise slowly and surely. Your brother’s address is the same, 
I suppose, 21 Golden Sparrow Street? Well, that will do, 
Symee. You are quite satisfied, and wish for nothing?” 

Again a blush, expressing her love and gratitude, and, 
with a modest courtesy, Symee retired as she said: 

44 Oh, no, sir. I wish for nothing. I am quite happy.” 

Symee spent the little leisure she had that day in writing 
back to her brother, and, after two pages of affection and 
hopes, she added: 

44 Dear Jesse, — Do not be ambitious for my sake. If 
you were to get too clever you might no longer care about 
your stupid sister. When we live together I will do all 1 
can to make you happy; but 1 don’t want you to get above 
your station. God made us poor, and if it had not been 
for Mr, Kestell, we should be work-house children. He 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


43 


said to-day, £ Tell Jesse “ a rolling stone gathers no moss,” 
and donT trust strange gentlemen, who may deceive you/ 
Mr. Kestell asked me how you were getting on. and he 
seems anxious you should keep steady in Card & Lilley^s 
office. Think of Mr. Kestell, who has never got tired of 
befriending us. 1 do often when I get worried with Mrs. 
KestelTs fidgets. Miss Amice was so kind to me last night, 
and cured my headache. It seemed like an angel touching 
me. Miss Elva is good too; but one is never sure of her. 
She has high thoughts, but Miss Amice lives up to them. 
She said you were to mind and come and see me when you 
can get a holiday. She will make it easy for us to be to- 
gether; so do come. 1 shall count the days till then. 
Your loving sister, 

“ Symee.” 

Jesse Vicary received this letter when he was just pre- 
paring to sit down to his study of German translation. 
Clerks who knew foreign languages had a better chance of 
getting on; and with a sort of dogged perseverance Jesse 
had courageously begun, and meant to master the diffi- 
culties. He had a room in a small lodging-houso, aud a 
tiny dressing-room adjoining, where he slept. This con- 
stituted the only home Jesse Vicary knew; for all his life 
he had been at the mercy of the fitful kindness of strangers. 
He was not unhappy here; on the contrary, he seemed to 
breathe freely in this dingy place when he came home in 
the evening. 

]S T ot very tall, but well made, was Jesse, with curling 
chestnut hair of a ve.ry unusual shade, deep-set hazel eyes, 
and a refinement of action which was all the more noticea- 
ble because his figure might have been improved with drill- 
ing and better-cut clothes. If one stopped to define what 
it was that made one single out Jesse Vicary from a host 
of young clerks, one would have said that it was the easy 
simplicity of his manner and speech. In spite of his hid- 
den ambition, he was not in the least pretentious in man- 
ner, for he was himself. He did not pretend to be any- 
thing more than a clerk in a merchants office, receiving a 
small salary, neither did he wish to impose any other per- 
sonality on those who spoke to him. Yet there was a curi- 
ous, unconscious power about him, which in spite of out- 
ward circumstances impressed itself on strangers who met 


44 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


him; and Hoel Fenner had noticed this, and had been 
struck without explaining the cause to himself. There are 
some men and women, though fewer of the latter, who, 
once seen, can never be forgotten. They may have no 
great talents, may have made no great name in the world, 
and yet for all that they are true units in a world where 
the tendency is to gregariousness; and their undefinable 
power seems to assert itself in spite of all surroundings, in 
spite of brilliant competitors, and in spite of the crushing, 
dull uniformity of their lives. 

'Liza, the maid-of -all- work at No. 21 Golden Sparrow 
Street, shuffled up with a grin on her face to give Mr. 
Vicary his letter. Even 'Liza would rather work for him 
than for any of the other lodgers; but she had also the tie 
of coming from the same neighborhood. 

“ Thank you, 'Liza," he said, politely, and the girl 
happily shuffled back to the lower regions, like some goblin 
of fairy lore. 

Even to touch Symee's letter did him good, and sent a 
new thrill of courage through his frame. Some day she 
would be sitting by his fireside, and he would have a sister 
near him on whom to expend some of the great love which 
must live in great hearts. 

To-day, however, he heaved a little sigh of disappoint- 
ment, when he had finished the letter. Symee could not 
understand his aspirations. The spirit of servitude was 
crushing out her free will. She mistook honest pride for 
presumption; she feared to hope. 

Then he read the letter again, and a feeling of annoy- 
ance arose at Mr. Kestell's advice; but Jesse crushed the 
feeling as soon as it appeared. Mr. Kestell was quite right 
from his point of view. How could he understand what 
his feelings were? And, after all, though he would always 
be grateful for the past, at present Mr. Kestell was doing 
nothing for him or Symee. Both worked hard enough, 
Heaven knew, and the future depended on themselves. 

“ I will shape out our lives as far as I may," he thought, 
“ and you must let me have my own way, dear, good little 
Symee. You don't know your own worth; you want me 
to teach it to you. But some day we will look the world 
bravely in the face and defy it to do its worst." 

It was a bold challenge to throw down, and, happily, as 
Jesse opened his book and set to work, he did not realize 


KESTELL 03? GREYSTOXE. 


45 


what he was willing to face. Something of the Luther 
spirit was in him, as well as much of that womanly ten- 
derness which often characterizes earth's noblest men. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ON THE MOOR. 

The autumn wind was on the moor; and Elva, who had 
climbed up from Rushbrook Mills toward the Beacon, sat 
down on a stile for the pleasure of feeling the air about 
her, and gazed at the thousand pictures around her, which, 
full as she was of the poetic spirit, she could enjoy with an 
enjoyment as intense as it was real. By her ran the gray, 
sandy road which divided the great belt of firs which 
stretched itself up-hill and down-hill for a mile or two from 
the Beacon. It was a perfect day; the fresh breeze lifted 
and swayed all that came in its way, from the soft, round, 
gray shadow-clouds to the tops of the tall fir-trees, and, 
lower than that, to the delicate, flowering grasses of every 
description. On the side of the road by which Elva had 
chosen her stile, there was a sweep of open moorland, 
where the heather, the ling, and the gorse all struggled for 
supremacy. But just here none had gained the victory, 
for all the grasses were in leaf and flower, or in fruit and 
seed, and exhibited hues, varying from the dull yellow of 
withered age, to the green and brown, russet and purple of 
their various kinds. Beyond these, the bracken and the 
thistle put in their sturdy appearance, while the burdock, 
in flower of richest red and light-green leaf, contrasted well 
with the purple scabious, on many a head of which a bum- 
ble-bee was happily balancing itself, making the flower 
that gave up its honey bend beneath the weight of the 
spoiler. 

This, aiid much more, Elva looked on while making a 
vision of her future life, as all young, eager souls do at 
some time or other. 

“ Papa will be just a little particular, but if I coax him 
he will think his future son-in-law perfection, 1 know he 
will; and Amice will declare he is not good enough; and 
mamma will think the wedding preparations a great 
trouble; and I — well, he and I will be above all common 
ideas of ordinary people. We shall trust each other, and 
share all our ideas, and he will encourage me to write good 


4G 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 


novels, or perhaps poetry; and he will love Rushbrook as 
much as 1 do. Our wedding will be different from that of 
ordinary people; we will just go to St. John’s and be mar- 
ried on an early summer morning, when this dear moor 
will be all over gossamer veils, and Amice will be there as 
my bride-maid. Of course. Amice will never marry. 1 
can’t fancy any one making love to her. Yet, perhaps, on 
an autumn day like this, some very saintly person might 
come — ” And then Elva hummed a verse she had read 
that morning: 

‘ ‘ ‘ How should I your true love know 
From another one? 

By his cockle hat and staff 
And his sandle shoon. 

Yes, Amice’s lcve will wear a cockle hat and sandle- 
shoon!” 

Something in her own happiness recalled to her the din- 
ner-party at Court Garden, and Hoel Fenner’s words: 

“ No one can write a novel who has not seen life under 
some of its most painful aspects. ” 

Elva thought of her own untroubled existence, and im- 
patiently crossed her arms. 

“No; I suppose I have not suffered; but I can love. 
And I could love with all my heart. When I am married 
my husband will understand my ideas, and he won’t call 
them ‘ crude,’ like that horrid Mr. Hoel Fenner. How 1 
hate that word, and him for saying it!” 

She jumped off the stile, and knelt down on the moor to 
pick a few wild flowers for Amice. How exquisite was the 
scent of all these heath treasures; how lovely life and nat- 
ure were! Earth seemed so fair, so full of possibilities to 
this girl, that, even as she felt a little hurt that sorrow had 
not taught her anything, she also rejected it as a dumb 
creature turns away from poisoned food. 

So busy was she, seeking for tiny flowers, that she did 
not hear the faint sound of footsteps on the sandy road 
close by, till George Guthrie’s voice startled her and made 
her jump up. 

“ Why, here is La Belle Dame sans Mercil Elva! I 
thought that at this time of the morning young ladies had 
avocations in-doors.” 

Elva blushed from anger, for walking with George was 
her enemy, Hoel Fenner. 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


47 


“ I was gathering wild thyme and flowers Amice likes 
best. I should have thought that it would have been men 
who had morning avocations . 99 

She laughed to hide her feeling of annoyance; but George 
Guthrie was discerning. 

“Now, Elva, you are displeased, I see, because you 
fancy the whole moorland is yours. I was taking Mr. Fen- 
ner for a walk up to the top of the Beacon; but, seeing 
you, we turned aside. Mr. Fenner, judge between Miss 
’Kestell and myself — has she a right to be angry? As to 
her title, well, that was given some time ago because she 
is so hard on the race called man, and fancies the mascu- 
line gender altogether a poor creature.” 

Elva could not help laughing, and Hoel was struck with 
the warm glow of life that characterized Miss Kestell. 

“ If I am La Belle Dame sans Merci, then you are cer- 
tainly 6 the wretched wight/ George.” 

“ So haggard and so woe-begone,” quoted Hoel, sur- 
prised at this country girFs quickness of rejoinder, for he 
was fast slipping into the idea that only a Londoner has 
sharp wit. As he spoke, he scrutinized the Belle Dame . 
After all, candle-light had not improved her beauty. She 
seemed almost perfect now, with her surroundings of pure 
nature. Here she fitted in like a jewel, replaced in its 
original setting. As he noted all this, however, Hoel was 
angry with himself for being interested in a girl, who, he 
had been told, would have heaps of money, and he almost 
wished this loquacious Guthrie had not been so communi- 
cative. 

He again noted her impetuous nature, which seemed 
clearly depicted in every outline of her head and neck. If 
she wanted something, he thought, she would walk through 
fire for it, and be angry if she were singed in the process. 
Yes, she was an interesting study, and interesting studies 
were part of his stock-in-trade. 

“When we met, two nights ago,” he said, “you were 
angry with the whole tribe of critics. Have you forgiven 
them now, or are we still in disgrace?” 

“ 1 do not change quickly,” said Elva, showing much 
more displeasure than the occasion required, or so it seemed 
to Hoel. “ I should think that English criticism is done 
on a wrong system altogether.” 

“ Well done, Elva,” said Mr. Guthrie, laughing heartily; 


48 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


“just like you to sweep everything away if not quite to 
your mind. What a pity women are not yet in Parlia- 
ment!” 

Elva’s blush was beautiful just then. Hoel quite for- 
gave the sinner who had called it up. 

“ How can you say that? .You know you despise women. 
All men do, more or less.” 

“What a rash statement! Pray name one, my dear 
Elva.” 

A quick smile made the girl’s face a picture, that fitted 
in beautifully with the rich color of the landscape around 
her, and the chasing lights and shadows of the great moor- 
land. 

She turned toward the two men, and said, quite earnest- 
ly and simply: ‘ 

“ It is not difficult to name Mr. Hoel Fenner.” 

If Elva had been coy or shy, or weak or diminutive in 
mind or body, Hoel would not have been the worse for that 
clear, steadfast gaze. As it was, he was conscious that the 
glove she was throwing down with such aggressiveness w*ts 
a dangerous thing for him to pick up. He knew he should 
retain the picture of that moor, of that girl, for a long 
time. However, most men do things they regret afterward; 
and, clear-sighted as Hoel Fenner was, he recognized that 
some of his danger lay in the fact that he accepted the 
challenge, not because he loved at first sight, which he was 
incapable of doing, but because he was conscious of a 
mixture of admiration and counter-aggressiveness. 

“ May 1 ask if Mr. Hoel Fenner despises women more, 
or less?” said the accused, looking at his accuser’s face. 

“ More, much more than most men, I should say.” 

“ Pray don’t contradict her, Fenner. 1 assure you, as 
in the case of more important people, it’s dangerous.” 

“ You know I despise people who agree with me from 
politeness,” and Elva broke off the head of a tall grass. 

“ Then let me avoid that danger, and say 1 disagree with 
you,” said Hoel, smiling. “ I consider that a literary man 
is only too glad to lose sight of the difference between man 
and woman when he can.” 

At this moment George Guthrie saw a young carter com- 
ing slowly down the road from the Beacon; and, as he 
knew every man and woman and child on his cousin’s es- 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 49 

tate and in the village, he could not resist the chance of 
a talk. 

“ There’s Caleb Joyce, Elva; have it out with the critic 
while I say two words to the lad. Ell be back in a min- 
ute, Mr. Fenner/’ and off he went. 

Left alone, the two suddenly seemed to lose the spirit of 
antagonism which a moment before was so strong; and for 
a few seconds both gazed out at the scene, which in its way 
could hardly be surpassed for loveliness. In front of them, 
looking away from the Beacon, an upland meadow lay 
spread out, the stillness of it being marred only by the 
eager crows; and beyond again, far above the tops of the 
grand fir-trees, stretched the long, high table-land ridge, 
known as the Forest of Alden, where, at intervals, the 
almost straight line was broken by solitary clumps of 
thinly grown firs, each clump having its local name, and 
serving as special landmarks to many a lonely village. The 
very width and breadth of this landscape seemed to elevate 
the minds of those who could appreciate what they saw; 
and Hoel Fenner, whose mind had been more formed by 
books than by nature, partially realized how much it must 
have influenced a girl like Miss Kestell. It was Elva who 
spoke first. 

“ Mr. Guthrie is so very kind-hearted and so odd. He 
really knows more about the poor people than even our 
clergyman, Mr. Heaton. It’s strange, but he really finds 
pleasure in talking to them about their rheumatism and 
their pains and aches.” 

“ And you think men are not given to sympathy?” 

“ Oh, no; except about their own ailments,” and Elva’s 
laugh was infectious. “ But, then, Mr. Guthrie is very 
idle; he never would go in for any profession, and much 
prefers pottering. Now, if I were a man, 1 should like a 
more useful life. I would reform evils and work on a large 
scale, and not waste time in gossiping with the poor.” 

“ 1 have never yet settled in my mind what is waste of 
time. Jesse Yicary, for instance, seems to spend much 
energy in learning German, and French, and short-hand. 
I doubt whether he will ever derive much money profit 
out of all this.” 

“ How curious you should have made friends with our 
Symee’s brother! Papa takes so much interest in them. 


50 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOXE. 


He saved them from the work-house when they were tiny 
children.” 

“ And what is the sister like?” 

“Oh! Symee acts as our maid, and is as good as gold, 
and very gentle; but she is not of a very original turn of 
mind. ” 

Hoel Fenner was interested in the speaker, and so affect- 
ed interest in the maid. 

“ And you would prefer an original maid? It seems to 
me that her name, at least, is not ordinary.” 

“ Papa does not like it. He tried to change it once; but 
Jesse Vicary took it so much to heart that my sister de- 
clared we must continue to call her Symee. I suppose it 
was her mother’s name; but I never thought about it as 
being original. I think Amice said the mother was Corn- 
ish. She likes poor people nearly as much as George 
Guthrie. I don’t. I never can think what to say to 
them.” 

Hoel agreed with her, and admired the frankness of the 
admission. 

“ Anyhow, all poor men are not like this Vicary. The 
little I saw of him impressed me much. I made out a 
theory that he must have had good antecedents; but you 
say he was only a poor man’s son. ” 

Elva, too, was interested. She forgot the critic in the 
talker. 

“ Oh, yes; quite poor people. I believe they lived in a 
little village on the other side of the Crow’s Nest — that’s 
the most distant clump you see out there. Then I think 
I heard papa say once that the grandmother took a little 
cottage on the Beacon just before her death.” 

“ I think Vicary has an interesting psychological his- 
tory.” 

“ How do you mean?” 

“ 1 fancy he believes in Christianity in a way which re- 
minds one of the medieval mind.” 

“ But doesn’t every one believe in Christianity?” 

“ Yes, as a fact; but few believe it in all its spiritual 
parts.” 

Elva almost said, as she looked up at Hoel: “Do 
you?” But she changed the words to: 

“We country people believe in a good, old-fashioned 
style, I suppose. We never question our belief, or examine 


KESTELL OE GEEYSTOHE. 


51 


it; I suppose if we did we should get puzzled. My sister 
Amice would not, however; she is very unlike other peo- 
ple; she tries to carry out her religion in a literal sense 
which my mother thinks very inconvenient. It is tiresome 
sometimes, but I never question it, because if Amice thinks 
a thing right, she does it all the more if one opposes her; 
besides, I think all Amice does is right, though we are so 
different.” 

The intense reality of her words fell like pleasant music 
on the ears of the man who, up to this time, had never had 
a very intense affection, because he had been so much en- 
gaged in polishing the bright diamond called Hoel Fenner. 

“ You are willing to agree and disagree with your sister; 
that is a very pleasant relationship.” 

Elva saw George Guthrie coming back, and she at once 
felt she had been too communicative with the critic. 

“ I don’t give names to my feelings.” 

“ But you will allow me to admire your loyalty to her?” 

“ Oh, 1 don’t know; ‘ there is nothing good or bad but 
thinking makes it so.’ It’s no use analyzing; it only re- 
sults in failure.” 

Poor Elva was thinking of “An Undine of To-day,” 
little guessing that though her book had appeared unin- 
teresting to Hoel, the living study was most engaging. 
Here was a country girl who had had no season in town, 
no special advantages, and yet who could express her 
thoughts well, and with a dash of originality. He could 
not help thinking of her future, as we sometimes do with 
regard to those strangers who come suddenly into our lives, 
and who may themselves be passing over the threshold into 
a strange world of events. 

“ She will marry a money-bag or a spendthrift — that 
young Akister, perhaps — and her originality will be smoth- 
ered by a conventional society.” 

So reasoned the philosopher, as George Guthrie came up 
full of a new idea. 

“ I have been hearing of Caleb Joyce’s little sister ’Liza. 
She’s in London, and isn’t it queer, Elva? — your protegee 
— Vicary — is there. Caleb says she’s a deal of tramping to 
do, and very little victuals. And he summed up her griev- 
ances by saying: 6 Why, sir, up there, they be just like a 
lot of furreners.’ ” 

“ Poor people get very queer ideas of life,” smiled Hoel. 


52 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


44 I can match them with the rich, 1 assure you! What 
do you think happened this morning, my dear Elva? After 
breakfast my cousin was reading a heap of little pamphlets 
about good societies. She keeps a special paper basket full 
of them, and 1 sometimes amuse myself with reading their 
titles. Well, .in comes Groves. 4 If you please, ma’am, 
Mrs. Joliff — she’s the poultry woman — has sent to ask for 
some port wine for the chickens that got numbed last 
night.’ My good cousin looks up quite pathetically, for 
her husband had gone off to the Board. 4 Your master has 
left some port wine with you. Groves, 1 know. You 
can send that.’ But Groves looked horribly woe-begone. 

4 Yes, ’m; but that was only the poor people’s* port wine. 
I don’t know whether that would d-o-o-o.’ 4 No, perhaps 

not, Groves. Take a little out of our decanter.’ Exit 
Groves. ’ ’ 

The whole tone and the diversified accents of George 
Guthrie were so comical, that both his hearers laughed 
heartily, though Elva added: 

44 Don’t tell Amice that story, she takes things so liter- 
ally. Mrs. Eagle Bennison meant no harm.” 

44 Harm! I think not. She was quite unconscious of 
any but the best intentions. Every one knows that bad 
port won’t hurt a poor man, neither will it restore the' cir- 
culation of a chicken. Comparisons are, of course, odious; 
but one has to make them sometimes.” 

44 1 must go home,” said Elva, suddenly. 

During Mr. Guthrie’s explanation, Hoel had been pick- 
ing some beautiful gentians near by, which his quick eye 
had suddenly discovered. He came back and handed them 
to Elva. 

44 Will you accept these. Miss Kestell? To my town 
eyes they look beautiful and rare.” 

Elva took them with a cold 44 Thank you,” and the sud- 
den gravity, almost frown, on her bright face was evident. 

Hoel was puzzled by the sudden change, and, as he and 
Mr. Guthrie walked on up the moor, 'he felt half nettled 
and half sorry he had given the flowers. Some instinct 
made him glance back, unseen by George Guthrie, who 
was leading the way, and to his mortification he saw Elva 
Kestell fling his gentians away with a determined, impetu- 
ous action which clearly expressed dislike of the giver. 
True, she did not know she was seen; indeed, there was no 


KESTELL OE GKEYSTONE. 53 

doubt the action was the result of some quick thought, but 
Hoel felt a glow of hurt pride at the very idea of being dis- 
liked. He had fancied he had made an impression on Elva, 
as he was accustomed to do on women in general. She had 
certainly interested him, or something more. Even now 
he would have liked to have asked her why she disliked 
him. In all natures with a vein of vanity in them there 
is a painful shrinking back from being disliked without 
sufficient reason; and, strange inconsistency of human nat- 
ure, it was Elva’s action, her contempt of his gift, and 
therefore of himself, which resulted in the birth of the 
idea: “ She can not understand me; but she shall some 
day like me.” To himself Hoel said no more; but there is 
an inner consciousness deeper than that represented by 
thought, the expression of which is like a picture formed 
by misty clouds; and from this mist Hoel saw unfolded the 
thought: “ She shall love me!” 


CHAPTER V. 

OUT OF HIS ELEMENT. 

Can any of us be sure that along the path of life’s daily 
routine we are not journeying to some great convulsion of 
our outward circumstances, or of our inward spiritual 
thought? Sometimes coming events, we are told, cast their 
shadows before them; we are seized with a dread that has 
no apparent cause, or we are urged to action by some un- 
recognized agency. Men or women of the world we may 
be, skeptics or believers, spiritually or carnally minded, 
and yet to all, at special moments, there comes a great 
feeling of overshadowing mystery; other worlds are round 
us, and we peer vainly about us, trying to solve the riddle 
of life. 

Hoel had not again seen Elva; his visit had terminated 
the next morning, and for some days he had been firmly 
settled in his luxurious bachelor quarters. 

Here he felt superior to circumstances. He was not 
wealthy, but wanted nothing he could not procure. In the 
dim background he even occasionally contemplated an in- 
heritance from his uncle, Mellish Fenner, who lived labor- 
ious days in doing nothing; but this inheritance Hoel de- 
spised, and did not reckon on it, or professed not to do 
so. Still, in his present condition, Hoel knew that he could 


EESTELL OP GREYSTOKE. 


54 

n'ot marry unless his wife were rich, and he was above 
hunting for riches. 

Hoel had so many virtues, that it was difficult for his 
sins to find him out. He was high-minded in thought, 
word, and deed; he was handsome; he was very clever, and 
possessed fine literary and critical faculty, which promised 
to make him a prince among critics. Several journals had 
already found this out, and only did not proclaim it for 
fear of rousing competition. Moreover, he had a just esti- 
mate of himself, which, on the one hand, prevented him 
from being conceited, and on the other from underestimat- 
ing his powers, and therefore rendering them less useful to 
him. But Iloel was overrefined with that overrefinement 
which, though not in the least effeminate, seems slowly to 
kill the more rugged excellence which, for want of a better 
word, we may call a grand character. 

Everything about Hoel Fenner helped this overrefine- 
ment to increase — that delightful sitting-room, furnished 
with exquisite taste, where he often gave afternoon tea to 
cousins, and cousins* cousins, and literary ladies and their 
friends; the dining-room, which was also his library, fitted 
with the best in literature, ancient and modern, not for- 
getting a row for individual taste, and which spoke well of 
the man. Yes, in HoeFs lodgings, from the butler to the 
books, everything was perfect; and the owner preferred his 
rooms to the Johnstonian Club, where pleasant men talked 
literary shop-gossip. Lately Hoel Fenner had been taking 
the work of the literary editor at “ The Current Reader's " 
office. It was here he had come across Jesse Vicary, who 
had gone there to ask for reporting work; and Hoel had 
been attracted to him by that undefiuable something which 
he possessed, and which Hoel vaguely felt was wanting in 
himself. 

Such was Hoel Fenner; and yet, though we have placed 
one hand on the weak spot, most of his friends and ac- 
quaintances would have rejected the idea of any imperfec- 
tion in their hero. 

As one of his friends said: “ Hoel Fenner is a first-rate 
fellow; will make his mark — and a good deep dent it will 
be. No conceit, either, about him. Pity he doesn't marry, 
for there are so many girls ready to have him." 

But Hoel had never given a chance to any of the many 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


55 

girls ready to have him. Men called him prudent; vvomfh 
liked him because “11 ne faisait pas des jaloax;” and yet 
any one looking deeper down below this perfect evenness 
of temperament, this perfect control of passion — if this 
word control can be used about something which gave him 
so little trouble — would have seen that all this betokened 
a want in his character. 

IToel had no family ties; that perhaps partly accounted 
for his defect. He had been left an orphan quite young, 
but Mellish Fenner had done his duty, and had looked upon 
his nephew as his adopted son. Hoel had responded gladly* 
even nobly, to this call. His uncle had nothing to com- 
plain of, but just as he was going to college, Mellish Fan- 
ner had told his nephew that if he continued to give him 
satisfaction, he should inherit his fortune. Mr. Fenner 
put that “ if 99 just to satisfy his love of power; to himself 
lie said it was for HoeFs good; and in one sense it an- 
swered its purpose. Hoel’s pride rose with a bound. He 
would be independent of all “ ifs;” he would earn his own 
fortune, and his uncle Mellish might, if he chose, leave his 
money to the London Hospital. On the other hand, that 
“ if 99 caused Hoel to see clearly that his uncle was selfish, 
and from henceforth the courtesy he showed to the invalid 
came no more from love, but from a sense of superiority. 
He, Hoel, would never be selfish or exacting in this man- 
ner; he would not try to bind others to him by false ties; 
in fact, he would not be at all like his uncle Mellish, but 
like a much higher caste of being — namely, Hoel Fenner. 

Mellish Fenner never found out this reasoning, he only 
noted that Hoel was more and more praiseworthy; that he 
succeeded in all he undertook; and that, though he was 
now obliged to live in London, he was just as courteous 
and attentive when he ran down to Hastings to see him. 
The less Hoel required the money, the more his uncle de- 
termined he should have it; but he could never bring him- 
self to say: “ Hoel, I am going to make my will in your 
favor. ” That bit of power over a younger and stronger 
life was too sweet to the old man. 

At this time, therefore, Hoel was determined not to be- 
lieve in Uncle MellistFs fortune, and he took great pains 
not to show increased tenderness for the poor hypochon- 
driac, for fear it should be imagined that he was thinking 
of his money. And so those two who might have bestowed 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


50 

untold blessings on each other failed, just because that lit- 
tle word “ if ” had never been retracted. 

This long explanation is needed to show both the great- 
ness and the weakness of Hoel; but to-day, as he sat in his 
easy-chair over a small fire, he felt that since his return to 
town he had not been quite the same man. Something 
had ruffled the perfect evenness of his lakers surface, and 
that something was Elva Kestell! 

Against his will he could see her with that glorious back- 
ground of moorland; he could trace the tall figure; he 
could again look with pleasure at that glow of health, of 
youth, and passion of life which he had never seen before 
in any young woman. Crude as was her mind, she pos- 
sessed that touch of the natural which made him, Hoel 
Fenner, with all his polish, recognize in her a true sketch 
from nature, not a highly finished painting where much of 
the eternal truth has been improved away by bare imita- 
tion. Elva was a rugged sketch, true, if unfinished. 

“ But why did she throw away my flowers? Has she 
foolish ideas about not accepting flowers? No, that did 
not seem at all probable.” 

There was no answer to this question, and, feeling im- 
patient at finding something he could not solve, Hoel took 
up a novel which had to be reviewed. It was weary work, 
but he was conscientious. He believed that criticism re- 
quired the best from him; that the object was to advance 
art and not to display the reviewer’s stilted sayings, which 
any tyro knows are merely a matter of habit. If he abused 
a book he did so believing that the author ought to be 
taught something or else choked off; but even honest re- 
viewers are mortal, and this evening he felt so much disin- 
clined to do his work that presently he threw down the 
book and put off the evil hour. 

From Elva his mind naturally strayed to Vicary. It 
was strange that he should just have hit upon the people 
who knew his early history — very strange. He opened his 
pocket-book and looked out his address. It was far away 
from St. Anselm Street; but Hoel remembered he had 
promised to call if any work turned up, and, as it so hap- 
pened that the sub-editor of “ The Current Header ” 
wanted a short-hand writer to take down a particular lect- 
ure, Hoel decided that this should be his excuse for going 


KESTELL OF GUEYSTOtfE. 5 ? 

out this evening, and, having finished his cigar, he went 
forth. 

“ That was a fine piece of philanthropy,” he thought, 
“ on the part of Mr. Kestell. It’s not often that attempts 
of this kind answer, however; but when one succeeds in 
raising a fellow-creature from the lowest state to one far 
superior, the reward must be great. Some day I think 1 
shall try the experiment. It’s a modern craze, and it's the 
fashion to din the poor into one’s ears. Now, if one had a 
specimen ready to show, one would have paid toll to fash- 
ionable philanthropy. Yes, some day I shall look out for 
this specimen.” 

At present, the thought of this future good deed quite 
satisfied Hoel; but it did not prevent him from having to 
overcome a certain mental and physical repugnance when 
’Liza ushered him up the dark, airless, and not overclean 
staircase of No. 21 Golden Sparrow Street. 

Jesse Vicary rose hastily from his chair and pushed back 
a pile of books, with a bright smile on his face, as he ac- 
cepted the profiered hand. 

“ This is kind of you, Mr. Fenner, very kind, to come 
all this way to see me. Will you sit down? I can provide 
a chair, though usually they are full of books.” 

Hoel had not intended to sit down. He had meant to 
say that he was looking in for a minute; but once again he 
was impressed by the mysterious power which Jesse exer- 
cised over those who came in contact with him. Hoel 
wondered why this man, who had come from the lowest 
rung of the ladder, should be so devoid of false shyness. 
Thinking to discover this riddle he accepted the chair. 

“ Don’t turn out any books for me,” said Hoel. “ We 
of the Grub Street brotherhood feel as if we were on a 
desert island if we see no books.” 

Hoel tried not to be condescending; but he was conscious 
that he was trying, while his companion had the advantage 
over him of being perfectly natural. 

“ You wished for some extra work, you told me, Mr. 
Vicary, and it so happens that we want Doctor’s lecture— 
which comes off next Thursday evening at the Institute- 
reported rather more carefully than the newspaper reporter 
is accustomed to do it. 1 thought you might try your 
hand at it.” 

“ It is very good of you to remember me. Thank you; 


58 


KESTELL OV Gfc EYSTONE. 


1 shall be delighted. I have improved lately, as a friend 
of mine lets me help him at the House occasionally; but 1 
dare not do too much night work. This 1 can well man- 
age. 1 am most grateful.” 

44 Don't say anything about that; and, by the way” 
(always doubt a fact being unimportant when so prefaced), 
44 don't credit me with a better memory than 1 possess, for 
I ought to tell you that 1 have lately been meeting gome 
friends of yours." 

44 Of mine?” said Vicary, quickly. 44 I have so few in 
London. " 

44 N o, not in London, but at Rushbrook." 

Jesse's bright smile was a pleasure to see; he admired 
Mr. Fenner, and this connecting link seemed to make him 
all at once his friend, if he might use such an expression 
even to himself about one so much above him. 

44 Then you saw Mr. Kestell and the young ladies. Did 
they mention my sister?" 

44 Yes, Miss Kestell, the eldest one, talked about her." 

Vicary, who had been standing up, stooped down a mo- 
ment to arrange some books; then, half sitting on a low 
book-case, he said: 

44 You understand now, sir, why I want extra work. I 
have but one relation in the world, and I want to make a 
home for my sister Symee. I don't think it any shame for 
a woman to earn her bread in service; but it is hard upon 
any woman never to have known a home, nor parents, and 
to have no one to speak a familiar word to her. Symee has 
been all her life at Rushbrook; at least, when a child, she 
was at the farm-house close by, and I was away at school. 
Then, when she was thirteen, Mr. Kestell took her into his 
house. He has been very good to her, to both of us; we 
can never repay him; but, all the same, it will be the hap- 
piest day of my life when I can say: 4 Symee, come home!' 
It does a man good to have such an object before him to 
urge him on; to have some one he loves above himself. 
Don't you think so, sir?" 

It was a curious question to put to Hoel Fenner, because 
he was at present perfectly happy without this object. The 
self-denial which springs from love was to him an unknown 
force. It was only since he had seen Elva that the very 
faintest glimmer of light from that other world had pierced 
through his own peaceful atmosphere; but so faint was this 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 59 

glimmer that, being on the whole no hjqpocrite, he said 
frankly: 

44 I have never had even a sister to work for, and I 
think I have been able to content myself. ** 

Hoel’s glance rested as he spoke on a good print of St. 
Christopher. He rose up and went to it, noting that Mem- 
ling was the artist, and that Strixner was the engraver. 

44 This is a good print. Does it belong to you, or to the 
house?’* 

44 That is mine. My sister had it given to her by Miss 
Amice Kestell, and asked leave to hand it over to me. 
Symee knew I should like it, but not how much it would 
help me. That big strong giant, finding the burden of 
the infant Christ almost more than he can do with, is a 
grand thought; and one sees he means to keep on till he 
has got to the other side. Then, though the rocks look 
cruel, there is the sun behind him, though he does not see 
it. 1 wonder sometimes why it is that we do not teach 
more with pictures. It is fortunate the Bible words are so 
plain, however, so that even our poorest, when they hear 
them, can make a picture for themselves in their own 
minds. ** 

Jesse spoke quite naturally, as if he were merely speak- 
ing his thoughts out and expecting a sympathetic answer, 
so that Hoel was ashamed to show how little this kind of 
conversation was in his line. 

44 I doubt whether art would impress the masses very 
much, though that*s rather the jargon of the time. Still, 
I believe that the clergy have in that direction a good deal 
increased their —what shall 1 call them? — stage properties.** 

Hoel could not mistake the expression of the intense 
feeling of disappointment in Vicary*s face; he felt angry 
at having made a mistake; it would have been better sim- 
ply to acquiesce. Before Hoel could retrieve his error, 
*Liza*s knuckles and shrill tones were both audible. 

44 If *please, Mr. Vicary, there*s a gentleman as wants to 
see you particular.** 

The gentleman evidently had not studied the rules of 
etiquette, for he followed *Liza too closely to give Jesse a 
chance of asking Mr. Fenner *s leave. Hoel rose; but as 
the new-comer blocked up the door-way, and as he, Hoel, 
did not wish to leave Vicary with a bad impression of him, 


60 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


and was also curious about Vicary’s friends, he remained 
where he was. 

The new-comer was a tall, gaunt man, with deep-set 
eyes, very shabby garments, and long, thin hands. He 
brought with him into the room a reeking odor of stale 
tobacco and recent spirits, which Hoel thought most objec- 
tionable; but in spite of this the stranger interested him, 
or rather the unusual scene in which he was participating. 

Jesse was as friendly and natural with this new visitor 
as he had been with the refined, literary Hoel; he brought 
a chair forward for the new-comer, who seemed almost too 
tall to be left standing. 

“ Mr. Fenner, this is my friend, Obed Diggings; he lived 
for some years at Greys tone, and that seems to make us 
quite old friends. Now we are both obliged to live in 
London.” 

Hoel bowed graciously; he was getting over the smell of 
tobacco, and the surroundings were impressing themselves 
on his mental retina. 

Obed Diggings turned toward Hoel and looked him over 
with a keen, piercing glance. It was not a glance of sur- 
prise, but of scrutiny: then apparently accepting him as 
Jesse's friend, and therefore his equal, he said: 

“ Very glad to make your acquaintance, sir.” Obed sat 
down, and leaned his long, thin arms on a pile of books. 
“ I hope, sir, Fm not disturbing you and our friend Yicary. 
He sees me pretty often; eh, Jesse, my lad? But though 
Fm double his age, I don't mind owning to you, sir, that 
I come here for help. There's many besides me who does 
that, and they don't go away empty; there's always some- 
thing here to fill the cask. ” 

“ Come, Mr. Diggings,” laughed Jesse, “ you forget 
we're not alone. Mr. Fenner won't be taken in by your 
fine words; he knows Fm only a clerk, and not a million- 
aire. All the help 1 can give you is contained in a nutshell. 
You see, sir, Fm a good listener, and Mr. Diggings is full 
of ideas.” 

Mr. Diggings did not join in the laugh, but he gravely 
tapped his forehead. 

“ Yes, there's a heap of ideas here; they come, and go, 
and tread on each other's heels, but in bad times they get 
starved, and cry out for food.” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 61 

As he spoke, the strange visitor took from an outside 
pocket a bundle tied up in a red pocket-handkerchief. 

“ I’ve brought it for you to see, Jesse; you’ve got such 
a good, clear head, that I like you to give a word to my 
things. This time, however, 1 think it’s perfect; the 
world will soon know the name of Obed Diggings. Look 
here, Jesse, and you, sir, too, please. Can anything be 
more neat and handy than this? Why, we sha’n’t be able 
to make them fast enough. I think I shall take Louis into 
partnership, or pay him by piece-work.” 

Hoel Fenner could not repress a smile of amusement as 
he approached the table, and saw Obed undoing the knots 
of the handkerchief with feverish energy, and taking out 
with great care a wooden photograph frame made in the 
shape of a heart, with a support behind to make it to stand 
on a table. 

Jesse, too, had a smile on his face as he silently stood by 
and said: 

“ That is the same you brought me before.” 

“ Yes, my lad, it is; but I’ve perfected this invention. 
There’s no mistaking it now — it’s original work. You see 
the heart, and the photograph to go inside. It may be 
that of your sweetheart; and if so, what more appropriate 
than that she should be in your heart! The idea will take 
like wildfire; but though this is ingenious, that’s not the 
whole of my invention. Wait a minute.” 

Obed began fumbling again in his large pocket, while 
Jesse took up the frame and turned it round, to examine 
it, as he said to Hoel: 

“ Mr. Diggings wants to take out a patent for this, and 
I’ve been trying to dissuade him from doing it; but I’m 
not knowing about this sort of handiwork.” 

“ Yes, that’s it,” continued Obed. “You’re a kind 
fellow; but you don’t quite understand. Now look here, 
this is the gem of the whole.” He now produced a penny 
button-hole glass, to which he had attached a long wire. 
“ This will make me a name. By this wire I shall fasten 
this glass, and then the whole will be first-rate: a heart for 
affection, a flower for remembrance. You see, Jesse, my 
lad, that the flower may be forget-me-not, or pansy, or 
what not. This patent will soon be in every shop- window; 
it will make our fortune — Milly’s and mine.” 

“ I’m afraid, as you’ve fixed it now, it will be a little 


62 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE, 


top-heavy,” said Jesse, kneeling down and adjusting the 
glass. “ Suppose we try putting it in the middle, there 
will be less chance of a misfortune to the patent — so; but 
wait a minute, the best plan will be for me to come and 
see you to-morrow after office work, and Milly and 1 can 
have a fixing-up consultation.” 

Obed Diggings took kindly to this suggestion, for evi- 
dently the unsympathetic attitude of the strange gentle- 
man disturbed the flow of his ideas. 

4/ Ab, we, yes; that would be best. I dare say you’re 
busy to-night, Jesse. Thank you. I’ll bring my speci- 
men again. When we are rich, I’ll not forget all you’ve 
done; no more will Milly.” 

Jesse assisted at the packing up, talking of ordinary 
matters to stop the flow of Obed’s gratitude. Then, at 
last, with a bow, which was represented by a violent dip 
from his waist, Obed took his final leave. 

Jesse watched him down the stairs, and when he re- 
turned to Mr. Fenner he had evidently forgotten his re- 
mark about the clergy, for his bright, eager look returned. 

“You must forgive the old fellow, sir. He has seen 
better days, and he is not badly educated; besides, lie’s 
got a kind heart. You should see how tender he is to his 
poor crippled girl; but unfortunately he’s got a terrible 
craze about inventions, instead of keeping to steady work. 
He learned cabinet-making, and does still earn money in 
the trade; but what he earns one day he throws away the 
next on his ideas, and, sometimes. I’m afraid he takes to 
drink a little.. It’s best to humor him, it keeps him 
straighten People live queer lives round here; but there’s 
much kindness, and some hard heads in spite of poverty. 
The worst is, the men get hold of bad books, and they 
meet in some of their clubs and like to hear the sound of 
their own voices.” 

Hoel listened, and seemed suddenly to have plunged into 
an unknown depth of sea, the soundings of which he had 
never before taken. Even now the horrible odor of stale 
tobacco, left as a legacy by Obed, made him thankful 
that his present surroundings would not last long. 

“ But you, Vicary, you have read a good deal; you are 
— excuse me for saying it — a good deal above your neigh- 
bors. If 1 were in your place, I think I should lodge in 
more— -well, a more congenial place.” 


KESTELL 0E GREYSTOKE. 


63 


Again Hoel felt that he was trying to avoid patronizing 
his new acquaintance, and yet, how was he to help feeling 
superior to a man who had been saved from the work-house 
by the charity of a gentleman? 

“ I like the place, " answered Jesse, thoughtfully. “ You 
see, even here, I have two fellow-creatures to whom I can 
speak of Kushbrook and Greystone; 'Liza, the girl, comes 
from off Mr. Eagle Bennison's estate, and Obed remembers 
climbing the great moors, which we call the Forest of Alden 
down there. I was down at the Home Farm, as a lad, and 
many a happy scramble I've had up to the five clumps. If 
I shut my eyes, 1 can see it all again, though 1 don't often 
talk about it; it brings on the mal du pays, as the Swiss 
people say. I can't call it homesickness, never having had 
a home; but the longing for those downs seems almost 
worse. As to Golden Sparrow Street, it's not as bad as it 
looks to you, and, till Symee comes and lives with me, 1 
prefer staying where I've got friends." 

Iloel felt he must go now; so, after a few words more 
about the required work, he shook hands and walked 
quickly away. On his way home he experienced a feeling 
very unusual to him — that of having failed to make the 
right impression on his hearer. Usually, he knew he said 
and did exactly the right thing; but this was in society. 
Certainly, Jesse Yicary could not be said to come under 
that head, and Hoel was conscious of not having been in 
harmony with him, and yet, in spite of everything, he was 
still attracted. 

“ It's a pity, however, he has not escaped the religious 
cant of the middle class. I suppose there is something 
soothing in feeling better than one's neighbors, or talking 
more about it; we cultivated people have the same feel- 
ings, 1 dare say, but cover it up with a substantial over- 
coat; still, if he has the cant, he has it in its least objec- 
tionable form, for he is quite natural with it. Strange that 
Kestell of Greystone should have made himself responsible 
for twins. When 1 next go and see the Heatons I must 
ask Miss Kestell whether the Yicarys were quite common 
people; I have heard of Nature's gentleman, but never 
met it before. But by the time I do go to Rushbrook 
again, I shall have forgotten all about the subject. Be- 
sides, why should 1 go? If 1 do, I shall most likely not see 
her. Kestell never asked me to call. I should imagine he 


64 


KESTELL OE GREY STOKE. 


only patronizes men with titles or fortunes; I've got 
neither, and should not be acceptable. Good heavens! 
what an idea. As if I wished to become acceptable!” 

Hoel was fond of a certain kind of psychological studies, 
and smiled as he noted his own inconsistency; but when 
one has gone far enough in “ the advancement of learn- 
ing ” one's self, it is interesting, but by no means exhilarat- 
ing, to note the waywardness of one’s own moral nature, 
and to find that knowledge does not necessarily guide 
actions. 

Hoel said to himself that evening, when once again 
seated in his sanctum: “ I will wash my hands of them all. 
When Vicary has finished this job, I shall have done my 
duty by him, and the connection will naturally come to an 
end. He is original and clever; but, after all, he can 
never rise above a certain level. A genius conies but sel- 
dom in a century; and, somehow, a London clerkship soon 
smothers even originality. It's a happy providence, so as 
to keep them well chained to their desks. No, I was 
rather rash in going to see him; I shall be more careful in 
the future.” 

But Hoel Fenner was somewhat too positive that even- 
ing, that he would not yield to circumstances; circumstance 
plays so large a part in all our lives, that it is better to 
acknowledge at once that we have to take it into considera- 
tion with all our reckonings of the future. Otherwise, 
when we strike against it, we may cannon off into a direc- 
tion the very opposite to the one intended. 


CHAPTER YI. 

MR. KESTELL'S PENSIONER. 

No one but Jesse Vicary knew what Jesse Vicary did in 
his spare moments. There was no one in his lodgings who 
cared to know except 'Liza, and she kept a mental almanac 
of his comings and goings. She did not care what he did 
outside; but she liked to hear his “ Thank you, 'Liza,” or 
to receive his nod and smile. Jesse himself did not chron- 
icle his own doings, as some self-conscious folk are apt to 
do. Not that his mind was incapable of reflection; on the 
contrary, his thoughts were his companions; but there was 
nothing of the sentimentalist about him. 


KESTELL OE GBEYSTOKE. 


65 


He looked around him and saw life as it was. He made 
no illusions about it, having the clear, healthy instincts of 
a man whose moral nature has not been willfully debased 
or kept in a religious hot-house. He saw squalid poverty; 
he saw physical waste and moral degradation. At times 
he would come in depressed from some friendly visit to a 
neighbor, whose moral reform seemed hopeless; but then 
Jesse would lay hold again more strongly of the great 
truths of Christianity, and, on his knees — for he was not 
ashamed to pray, but knew that prayer was his only safe- 
guard — he would once more call out in his heart that God 
was more powerful than evil, for, somehow, he feared to 
dim this belief by contact with darkness. 

Overcultivation often prevents fructification, and the 
school that Jesse Vicary had been brought up in had cer- 
tainly not fostered sentiment. He could look back at his 
life at the grammar-school and remember with mingled 
shame and pleasure hard fights of no mean order between 
himself and his school-fellows, and a certain amount of in- 
subordination to his teachers, tempered by fear of what 
Mr. Kestell would say if he heard of it, and whether he 
would take him away from his only chance of raising him- 
self and of getting knowledge. Though not more industri- 
ous than his school-fellows, Jesse even then craved* for 
knowledge. 

But thrown in a small world which is a mimic of the 
big world and its attendant good and evil, Jesse could 
honestly look back and say that he had never soiled his 
conscience with deeds that would shun the light of day. 
He took no credit to himself for this; but it so happened 
that for a short time the boy had been brought under the 
influence of a man whose deep religious bearings had 
caused him to be accused of slight derangement in his 
cerebral mechanism. 

A deep affection, such as will often be found between a 
pupil and his teacher, sprung up between these two, and 
Jesse never forgot the effect of that intercourse. It was 
like the opening of a new world to him; like the sound 
of rushing water in a desert; like the cool draught to a 
parched tongue. 

Jesse had never talked of Richard Melton to any one, 
not even to Symee. The remembrance of that one year of 
friendship was something too holy to mention, as was alsp 


6d 


RESTELL OF GEEYSTONE. 


the grief when the poor teacher, whose genius in book- 
learning was indisputable, was sent away because the head- 
master of the grammar-school found that the queer fellow 
was gaining too great an influence over the boys. 

Richard Melton’s work, however, was accomplished as 
far as concerned the poor, almost friendless, Jesse Vicary. 
The world of spiritual power which he had seen with his 
own eyes, exampled by the wholly self-denying life of the 
despised school-master, could never again be shut out from 
this pupil. 

Looking back on that year, Jesse had come to the con- 
clusion that Richard Melton must have experienced a great 
sorrow or had a great wrong done to him in his life. And 
yet he had never mentioned it to his boy friend; only he 
had painted to him the picture of injury heroically borne, 
so as to bring not crushing misery to the sufferer, but 
great nobility of soul. “ If only he were alive now,” often 
thought Jesse in his little den, 44 he would come here, and 
would tell me wonderful things, and make some of the 
mysteries around me as clear as he did then. If only I had 
been older, and could have understood him better!” But, 
alas! Richard Melton had been run over by a train shortly 
after his dismissal, in an attempt to clear the line of an 
obstruction put there by some evil-minded person or per- 
sons unknown. “ Another proof of his craziness,” the 
head-master said, for the train went over the obstruction 
and also over the body of Richard Melton without going 
off the line. Jesse could still remember the boyish grief 
he had suffered when he heard the news; how he would 
wake up night after night, seized with the horrible night- 
mare that he w 7 as trying to save Mr. Melton and w r as too 
late, and he would find himself in an agony of fear at hav- 
ing seen, with terrible distinctness, the two fiery eyes of 
the oncoming train close upon him, v r hich vision, curiously 
enough, occasionally took the appearance of Mr. KestelFs 
benign countenance. 

That phase had gone by long ago; the lapse of time had 
softened the personal grief; but Jesse had the strength of 
noble natures, the strength to remember, which fact has 
not been enough considered by our philosophers and mor- 
alists. Even now at times, Vicary, strong, broad-shoul- 
dered man that he w r as, had a nervous, womanish dread of 
a train. Symee had found this out, and gently laughed at 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOISTE. 


67 


him, or scolded him for saying most likely it was a pre- 
sentiment of the manner of his death. In truth, it was the 
strong effect of those terrible nightmares. 

But besides arousing the power of spiritual outlook, it 
was this same Bichard Melton who had implanted in the 
boy of no particular prospects that deep, intelligent love 
of books which had been Jesse's blessing, and also some- 
what of a curse. It made him chafe against the dry 
routine of his clerk's work at the merchant's office. Card 
& Lilley were highly respectable coal merchants; but 
Vicary's work was as uninteresting as it is possible to im- 
agine. He knew he could never rise higher, nor could his 
salary. On the other hand, if he continued to give satis- 
faction, there was no likelihood of his being turned off. 
But Yicary had had, very conservative persons would per- 
haps think unfortunately, the passion of learning implanted 
by the so-called crazy usher. He had taught him to make 
an intelligent use of the little Latin the grammar-school 
gave freely, if uninterestingly. He had shown him the 
beauty of some of the classic authors, and eagerly pointed 
out far more than the boy could then take in, but which 
came back to him at intervals like the remembrance of 
dreams. 

Vicary's mind became from thenceforth an insatiable de- 
vourer of all literary knowledge. He had, moreover, a 
marvelous memory, which seemed able to grapple with the 
difficulty of storing knowledge away till wanted. He 
wanted knowledge, and yet knowledge seemed of little use 
to him, for Mr. Kestell had procured him the post of 
office-boy at Card & Lilley's without consulting him; and 
here in London he had been ever since, rising from sweep- 
ing out the office to adding up tons of coals, and balancing 
profit and loss. 

But London offers great advantages to book-lovers; the 
free libraries and the cheap book shops soon knew Vicary's 
figure; the devouring of books proceeded side by side with 
profit and loss, and side by side with the growth of his 
spiritual nature. 

Jesse had, however, now no thought of change. He was 
not enterprising for himself as far as money was con- 
cerned; still, he was glad of any extra work, not only for 
Symee's sake, but also because the work might perhaps lie 
in a direction more pleasing to him than tons of coal. It 


68 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


was this that had made him feel Hoel Fenner’s kindness. 
After all these dreary years a new hope had entered his 
soul, and he thanked Heaven for it. Only those who have 
been longing for intellectual sympathy or exchange of 
thought can understand the feeling of Jesse; but not be- 
ing used to good times, he was half afraid of his own joy. 
Symee’s words came back to him. Was he ambitious? 
No. Or it was only a proper ambition such as Mr. Melton 
would have sanctioned. Outwardly, he was contented; he 
had health, strength, an honest name, if poor, and a love 
of learning. 

Such was Jesse Vicary after Iloel Fenner’s visit; he felt 
that he had passed a new threshold, and hope seemed then 
a glorious figure leaning on the anchor which was all-pow- 
erful to support her. 

The next day the new horizon made everything appear 
bathed in sunshine. Jesse felt an unusual spirit of reform 
take possession of him. Nothing looked impossible; he 
even began forming a plan about the possibility of telling 
’Liza how much better she would look without smuts on 
her face, but thinking better of this, he decided he would 
put off this delicate mission till Symee should come to live 
with him. He took up a German book before going out, 
and found that the sense became clear to him. Every- 
thing seemed suddenly to have made a bound in a new 
direction; everything looked plain. He even entertained 
the idea of making Obed Diggings give up invention and 
stick to his cabinet-making; he would go, he thought, that 
very evening to him about it. So, coming home from the 
office, he purchased a bunch of flowers for Milly, and when 
his modest meal was finished, he sallied forth through the 
dingy streets. 

Obed Diggings’ lodgings were at the end of Golden 
Sparrow Street, over a small tobacconist shop, and the lit- 
tle front room where Milly lay all day on a couch near the 
window, was also the dwelling-room of the cabinet-maker, 
who had gone down in the world because of his too fertile 
imagination and his occasional inordinate thirst. But, in 
his way, Obed was a good father; his golden dreams of fut- 
ure fabulous fortunes always included poor Milly, who, 
having been allowed to tumble down-stairs before her 
bones were sufficiently hardened by use, had sustained an 
injury to her spine, which made her a very useless member 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


69 


of the Golden Sparrow community. Her mind had grown, 
however, if her body had never been strong. She had been 
able to get about just a little when they lived at Greystone; 
but London air and the constant pressure of her father's 
erratic ways had taken away the little strength she had re- 
tained. How she hated London! But now they seemed 
settled there till death. Obed had heard of good work 
near Golden Sparrow Street, and in one of his moments of 
hope had left Greystone, and all his friends and relations, 
and had dragged his only child to her present quarters. 

But Milly did not complain, she only longed. 

When Jesse's knock was heard at the cloor, Milly's pale 
cheeks flushed. Down at Greystone she could never have 
seen him, so she said that partly made up for town life. 

Her father was loudly talking and gesticulating to an 
acquaintance this evening. Each one fancied himself the 
genius and his companion the fool; so no wonder it sounded 
as if they were having words, while, in fact, each was try- 
ing to make the other see that he had better own that his 
rampart was indefensible; but this, as we know, is the last 
thing to be expected of our adversary. 

Jesse Vicary's entrance happily stopped the discussion 
for a little. Milly heaved a little sigh of relief, though 
without stopping her delicate wool crochet, a labor she sold 
to the West End shops for ridiculous prices, this work be- 
ing now as little profitable as the wool which originally 
ornamented the back of the sheep. 

Obed jumped up to welcome his visitor. He was very 
hospitable, and would smoke and drink his last penny with 
a friend. Fortunately for him, from motives of economy, 
Jesse did neither. 

“ That's right now, Jesse, my lad. Glad to see you. 
You'll come and settle between us. Here's Mr. Joe But- 
ton says that a man who has not been a miner can never 
make any inventions for mines that will hold water. Now 
I say that he’s wrong, quite wrong. We want to get the 
water out of the mines!" Obed brought his fist down on 
the table and made the glasses rattle. “ Why, don't you 
remember that lantern of mine, Jesse, which I worked at 
last year? If I had finished it, why, you'd never have 
heard of another explosion in those rascally mines, and yet 
I've never been down, nor never mean to go down, a 


70 


KESTELL OF GREYST02STE. 


mine. It’s the brain that’s wanted, not the blacking of 
one’s clothes, as you seem to think, Mr. Button.” 

Jesse, smiling, cast a look at Mr. Button, and decided 
that he, too, belonged to the class that had been better off. 
Golden Sparrow Street was full of such people, and some 
of the men had as keen and clever intellects as you could 
wish to find when — yes, when the demon left them alone. 

Mr. Joe Button’s face spoke of mental capacity; but 
spoke also of drink. The oppressed look in his eyes, the 
shaking hands, the sudden flashes of wit, and the as sud- 
den dull moments,. when it seemed doubtful whether he 
took in all that was said, marked him out as a man already 
far advanced on the downward path which leads to hell 
upon earth. Mr. Button spoke good English, was better 
educated than Obed Diggings, though certainly less in- 
ventive; but he had none of that child-like confidence and 
openness of purpose which attracted one to the cabinet- 
maker in spite of his conceit, or, shall we call it, belief in 
himself. 

44 It’s not any use a man what has never been in the 
bosom of a mine saying he can undersatnd what is wanted,” 
said Mr. Button, addressing Jesse, as more likely to be 
sane on the subject of safety-lamps. 44 1 was overseer for 
ten years, up in the north, to a man that understood more 
.than most land folk; and yet even he made mistakes at 
times.” 

44 That was a good berth, I should think,” said Jesse, 
cheerfully, as he crossed the room to give Milly the flowers 
he had bought for her. 44 Have you left it, sir, or are you 
only on a visit to Golden Sparrow Street?” 

44 Call it the Estate, Jesse, my lad; call it Golden Spar- 
row Estate. All the street belongs to one of your close- 
fisted money-getting villains,” put in Obed, hotly, 44 who 
sends round his ugly-faced collector for the rents as if 
money was the sole object of man! You know the fellow 
we call Baggy Bob, eh, Jesse? Last time he called I was 
busy with that frame you saw, and didn’t want to be 
bothered about rent. Well, he was as impertinent as — ” 

44 Never mind all about that, father,” put in Milly. 
44 Can’t you give Mr. Vicary a chair? Just look at these 
flowers he’s given me.” 

Mr. Joe Button eyed the young clerk with his dull eyes 
as if he were trying to place him in a catalogue he kept for 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


71 


all the human beings he met, and the look, besides being 
dull and heavy, was also envious. Joe Button remembered 
himself when he too was capable of becoming an honored 
and respected member of society; but he, like many of us, 
had failed on the way, and, while he blamed others for the 
failures, in his own heart he was honest enough to know 
he had only to blame himself. 

Obed never blamed himself or others, having a happy 
unconsciousness of failure; but, to make up for this self- 
deceit, Obed never envied the embodiment of his might 
have beens. 

44 I don’t see,” answered Mr. Button, still eying Jesse, 
44 1 don’t see that a rent collector has to be blamed for do- 
ing his duty. That’s what England expects of us all. In- 
deed, I’m thinking of going into the collecting business 
myself. I’ve thought of tax collecting; but it doesn’t 
seem to be varied enough, I’d prefer the private business; 
I never did like being mixed up with the government.” 

Mr. Button did not mention that the reason of his be- 
ing disinclined to serve her majesty was that his testi- 
monials were much too vaguely worded to be of much use 
for a public life. 

44 I must say,” replied Jesse, feeling he must make a re- 
mark, though he would have preferred Mr. Button’s room 
to his company, 44 I should not like to be a collector of 
money. In the first place, I should not like to do my 
duty in getting it out of people who were unwilling to give 
it to me; and then — well, I don’t know,” he added, laugh- 
ingly, 44 if I were very hard up I don’t know whether the 
sight of gold that wasn’t mine would give me much pleas- 
ure.” 

44 And during those ten years,” continued Obed, still 
running on his own genius, 44 did you ever try to improve 
the safety-lamp, Mr. Button? I’m sure I’d have taken 
out several patents. You see the ideas are all so numerous 
in my mind that out they will come, like flour from a sack 
that’s too full. It’s wonderful!” 

Mr. Button took his glass of beer and fixed his eye on 
Obed as he swallowed it down, as much as to say: 44 That 
man’s a wonderful fool.” He only answered him when 
he put down the glass. 

44 .No, I didn’t. I was busy in a better way, and my 
chief was particular, though kind enough. I’ve nothing 


72 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


to say against him as a master. It's what he left undone 
that I found fault with more, not what he did. ” 

44 And what was that?” said Obed. “ Wouldn't try 
your new steam -valve, or something like that? 1 find men 
are as suspicious as rats with poison; they won't try it; 
which aggravates the feelings of those as lay the poison 
about.” 

“ It was nothing of that sort,” said Mr. Button, con- 
temptuously, filling his glass again — 44 nothing. I'm sure 
the master wouldn't have stood inventions. He was al- 
ways saying, 4 Be cautious. Button; there must be no ex- 
plosions here, remember; I should never forgive myself if 
the men suffered.' No, he was tender-hearted — too ten- 
der-hearted. I don't hold by soft hearts in a man's bosom; 
that's for the ladies. He was not mean, either; but, after 
all my long, faithful service, he refused me a character 
such as I thought necessary for my future. He owes me 
a character, that's what Mr. Kestell does.” 

Jesse was struck by the name, and also he could not re- 
frain a smile, which he hid by turning away, before he said: 

44 Mr. Kestell! That’s not a common name. Was he 
the owner of the mine?” 

Obed and his daughter knew nothing of Mr. Button's 
character, but they knew well the name of Kestell, so both 
looked interested. 

44 He was the owner of the land first, and of the mine 
afterward. It was one of those lucky hits which don't 
come often. He must have bought the land cheap. It 
went through two or three hands before; I don't remember 
the names of them. I was a native of the place, so I ought 
to know about it from the beginning. But, gracious me, 
1 never thought what that bit of land was worth, or I 
would have kept it myself. In those days my father and 
I were big fools. I don't know anything that turns one's 
stomach more than seeing a man walk into something of 
uncommon value without any trouble.' Lord! what sums 
he's made from that mine. Of course no tv it's not so good 
as it was; trade's gone to the dogs. But Mr. Kestell ought 
not to complain.” 

44 How long is it since you left off that work?” said 
Obed Diggings, eying his friend. 

4 ‘ A year or two — yes, two. And, as I said before, I 
don't complain of what Mr. Kestell did. He recognized 


IvESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


73 


my value, for lie gave me a pension; but he wouldn’t put 
enough down in writing. A pension is no use to a man 
whose energy is not gone; you see, he prefers work.” 

“ Perhaps it’s your Mr. Kestell,” said Obed; and Jesse 
noted at once, nor indeed was he surprised at noting, the 
suspicious gleam in Mr. Joe Button’s face. 

‘ fc It’s Kestell of Greystone they call him. If it’s yours 
or not, I’m not complaining of him, except that he was 
too soft; a chicken heart is good to make chicken-broth 
for invalids, it’s not much good for men.” 

Soon after this speech, however, Mr. Button took his de- 
parture, and Jesse was not sorry. 

“ It seems to me that Mr. Kestell has pensioned a 
rogue,” said Obed, who could not forgive his visitor’s 
scornful remarks about his inventions. “ He came to me 
about some business, and was recommended to me by peo- 
ple who knew I was clever in most lines. But I think 1 
could patent that rogue, Jesse, my lad, and no one would 
wish to steal him from me.” 

“ You’ve often said how kind Mr. Kestell was, Mr. 
Vicary,” said Milly, glad to be again a recognized unit in 
the room; ‘‘and that is a proof of it; he couldn’t guess 
you would ever meet this Mr. Button, could he?” 

“ That he couldn’t! I expect that his overseer became 
too fond of the bottle, so, instead of a false character, he 
gave him a pension. You see, he wouldn’t be unjust to 
another employer, and yet wouldn’t let the man starve. I 
did once hear he had made money by some mining prop- 
erty; but I never knew any particulars. One never hears 
Mr. Kestell talk of his good deeds.” 

“ I expect you’ve done more for yourself than ever Mr. 
Kestell did for you?” said Obed. “ It’s wonderful the 
difference there is in human stuffs; some will turn into 
good patents, and some are quite worthless inventions.” 

“ Not worthless,” said Jesse, “ don’t say that, Mr. Dig- 
gings. If I were to think so, it would take away so much 
of the joy of living; and just now everything seems to be 
bright. No, no, not wortldess; I don’t believe God ever 
loved a worthless world.” 

Obed shook his head; his religion dated back along way, 
and stopped soon after. 

“ Pm not going to bring out a theological patent as you 
could do, Jesse — no, but I go about a good deal, and see 


74 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


much more worthless than good stuff. But just talk a bit 
to Milly, and 1*11 fetch the frame. Why, it’s vastly im- 
proved since you saw it. You’ll see it is.” 

When Obed was gone to his own work-shop, Jesse seemed 
to throw off a momentary sadness that had come over him. 
Milly was still occasionally smelling her flowers. She was 
so grateful to Jesse for his thought of her, and yet did not 
know how to express her gratitude. 

“ It makes me think of the country,” she said, looking 
up at him, “ and of the things you tell me of Rushbrook. 
You know I never got further than the village but once, 
when our rector’s wife drove me to the farm at Rushbrook; 
but it’s like a dream to me now. I remember nothing but 
the water. Sometimes, when it’s very hot here, I think of 
that beautiful water till it gets almost cool.” 

“ 1 wish I had your power of making wishes come true,” 
said Jesse, smiling. 

“ But not all of them. When father talks as he did just 
now, 1 want to say something, and I get angry. There’s 
a meeting to-night at the Golden Sparrow, and Tom Novis 
is going to talk.” 

Tom No vis was a man who lectured on religion or non- 
religion. He also came round with infidel tracts, and, 
among his friends, was considered a smart fellow, and one 
who knew something. Jesse also knew him slightly. 

“ I dare say he means to do good,” said Jesse, thought- 
fully. “He couldn’t take so much trouble to do harm. 
But he hasn’t really gone into things; one soon comes to 
the end of his knowledge. 1 expect, Milly, he’s not yet 
felt the want of something above himself; but there are 
many who might know more, and yet do the same thing.” 

“It’s all 1 have,” said the girl, in a low voice. “I 
think God has wanted me to lie here because He sees it’s 
good for me; and if they took that from me what would 
they leave me? That and your visits,” she added, more 
cheerfully, “ and the books you lend me, though I can’t 
understand them all.” 

“ I’m afraid I don’t choose them properly for you; but 
I’m getting to know your tastes better. ” 

In truth, Jesse was very ignorant about the opposite sex, 
as most men with a few exceptions are, even those who 
pride themselves on their knowledge. 

“ But, Milly, 1 have a piece of good news, which I have 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 75 

kept for you,, because you will be glad. I said to myself 
you shall be the first to hear it.” 

The bright blush told of Milly’s pleasure, but she guessed 
it only too easily. 

6 4 They’ve given you a holiday?” 

44 Yes; I was to have it in December, but the other clerk 
has offered to change; it’s more convenient to him; and 
I’m to have my ten days in a week’s time. Only think of 
that, Milly, in this glorious weather. Fancy striding up to j. 
Crow’s Nest, and roaming about the pools, and climbing 
the Beacon, and going miles and miles over the forest. ” 

44 1 am glad,” said Milly, so unselfish that she would 
not even say how much she would miss him. 44 1 wonder 
if, some day, I shall be able to walk there, too. But when 
you talk I can see it all.” 

44 And there’s something else, Milly. I’ve got a new 
friend, and he has brought me some work, work after my 
own heart. ” 

44 That’s Mr. Fenner you told me about.” 

44 Yes, and he came himself to pay me a visit; and, what 
is nicer, he had just been to Rushbrook, and talked about 
it.” 

44 And you’ll lodge at the farm, and see your sister 
often?” 

44 Yes, as often as Mrs. Kestell will let her out. She’s 
a dreadfully exacting person; but then Symee never com- 
plains, because of Mr. Kestell ’s kindness. You see the 
sort of man he is from that Mr. Button’s story. ” 

44 You deserve all your pleasure,” she said, from her 
heart; 44 you’re always doing something for other people.” 

44 Nonsense! Why, you would do the same for your 
friends, and aren’t you one of my friends?” 

Milly shook her head. 

44 You’re ever so different somehow.” 

44 A working-man, that’s all — not an inventor,” added 
Jesse, smiling, as Obed Diggings came back, carrying his 
last effort of genius with great pride and care in his hands. 


CHAPTER VII. 

LOYE ’S PITFALLS. 

Elya passionately loved her home and the moorlands 
about it; the charm of varying lights and shadows ap- 


KESTELL 0E GilEYSTOKE. 


n 

pealed, without her knowing it, to that which was awaken- 
ing in her now that she had reached the happy stage in life 
when control was no longer exercised over her doings. She 
was like a newly freed bird that flutters hither and thither, 
before it thinks of alighting on a twig, so that it may fully 
realize its liberty. Amice was free to do all the good 
works she liked. She could visit the poor, and teach in 
the schools. But Elva rejected all these restraints, in spite 
of Mr. Heaton’s suggestions and Miss Heaton’s plain 
words that, 44 It was a great mistake when girls thought of 
nothing better than pleasing themselves when they came 
out. ” 

44 I hate poor people,” was Elva’s answer. 44 I do them 
no good; I don’t, know what to say to them. I would give 
them all the money 1 have rather than be expected to visit 
them. I get more good by sitting on the moor for an 
hour, looking at the lovely things there, than by going into 
poky cottages.” 

Miss Heaton, who thought visiting the poor was the 
highest ambition and the highest work of woman, often 
shook her head over Elva Kestell’s sins, and she would talk 
to her brother about them, little guessing that though he 
always said, 46 Yes, Clara,” and 44 Exactly so, Clara,” in 
his heart he admired the willful strength of Miss Kestell’s 
determination not to be molded into another Clara Heaton! 
Oh, those dreadful, deceiving beings called bachelor broth- 
ers! What do they not deserve? How bold they are to 
deceive their spinster sisters, and how cowardly, too, in 
the way they slink out of their stronghold when it is inde- 
fensible. Clara Heaton kept strict guard over her broth- 
er, being resolved that as he had not married before she 
came to keep house for him, he should not do so afterward! 
He had passed the stage of fervor which had once made 
him think that a celibate body of clergy would be the 
highest blessing to England; now he was painfully con- 
scious that Clara often reminded him indirectly of his past 
utterances, and he saw that she meant -to keep him to his 
word. 

Happily for Clara Heaton, Kushbrook Mills boasted of 
but few ladies. The lovely church in its wood of fir-trees, 
with its glorious outlook over vast expanses, was wife 
enough for any clergyman, thought the maiden sister; if 
Herbert did his duty to his church and his parish, that was 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE* 


w 


enough object to last a man's life-time. In her narrow 
way Miss Heaton was very determined; and, good and 
high-minded as he was, Herbert was a coward the moment 
his sister's neat bonnet, plain jacket, and unfashionable 
but useful skirts came within sight. 

Miss Heaton had long ago reckoned up her enemies, and 
seen, or tried to see, where the greatest danger lay. There 
was the Honorable Betta up on the Beacon — no, there 
could be no danger from her— plain, shy, awkward, often 
required at home, and never saying much that was audi- 
ble. There were one or two other young ladies who were 
living with aunts, or uncles, or widowed mothers. These 
were always in a state of adoring the vicar, and were use- 
ful for church decorations, and for making up a week-day 
congregation. To these. Miss Heaton was kind and pat- 
ronizing, encouraging them just enough to keep them up 
to the pitch of doing useful work, but knowing exactly 
where to stop, for fear lest their open admiration of Her- 
bert should lead to anything in the least unsuitable, such 
as working slippers for him, or offering to make him a 
surplice. They might go as far as book-markers for the 
church, and surplices for the choir boys; further, they 
must not go. But, as a matter of fact, Herbert, good, in- 
nocent man that he was, never guessed even that book- 
markers meant more than helps to find places; and that 
choir boys'* surplices hid hopeless love; he would have been 
truly shocked had he divined the joy of stitching for him. 

Miss Heaton was now quite happy about these young 
ladies; but as she had heard often of the enormities com- 
mitted by young vicars, she never ceased her watchfulness. 

Then there were the “ Kestell girls," as she called 
them, and stray visitors at Court Garden. She had not 
yet decided in her own mind which constituted her greatest 
point of danger, whether habitual sight, or sudden en- 
chantment. It was this knotty question that kept her 
mind so frightfully busy. Would Herbert succumb to 
long knowledge engendering love, or would some pink and 
white beauty steal his heart? Neither of these terrible 
catastrophes must be allowed; but, oh! the watchfulness 
required, the planning, the little deceits, the small subter- 
fuges. 

She finally settled that she had most to fear from Amice 
Kestell. Amice was good; and, but for her intense want 


78 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOXE. 


of color, very pretty; only she looked more like some 
beautiful marble statue than real flesh and blood in the 
shape of a woman to fall in love with. 

Still, Amice was constantly to be met with in cottages. 
She was loved by every man, woman, and child in Rush- 
brook Mills district, while Miss Heaton was feared. She 
was often, too, at church, though not with the regularity 
of the young ladies before mentioned. Rather, she came 
like some angel, who, ruled by unknown laws, appears at 
uncertain intervals. On Amice, then, Miss Heaton con- 
centrated her watchfulness, because she felt sure that Elva, 
who never went to a cottage, who thought chiefly of the 
things of earth, would never in the least attract her saint- 
ly brother Herbert. 

Alas! for the genius of the cleverest of us when it comes 
to fathoming the opposite sex. When Clara so often re- 
marked against the doings or the non-doings of that way- 
ward Elva Kestell, Herbert always mentally found excuses 
for the fair sinner. He prided himself on understanding 
her, and on seeing all the good beneath the beautiful ex- 
terior. W r e must, of course, at once grant that to a man’s 
mind there is much more likely to be unfathomed and 
hidden good in the heart of a beautiful woman than in 
that of a very plain one. In fact, quite unknown to him- 
self, Herbert, from a certain charitable fairness in his char- 
acter, was always finding excuses for Elva, while Amice, 
who needed none, and was never mentioned by Clara, 
came in for a lesser share of his thoughts. Indeed, he had 
an undefined feeling of strangeness and ere.epiness in her 
presence which in no way could lead to love. 

Elva Kestell was like a new piano from the best maker 
— it wanted to be jDlayed upon to make sure of its tone, 
and till time and use had done th^ir work, it was impossi- 
ble to tell how much extraordinary worth it possessed. 

Her nature had nothing artificial about it as yet; and 
surrounded apparently by every gift of fortune — health, 
wealth, and happiness — it seemed probable that she would 
sail happily with her rich freight into a pleasant harbor. 

Such, dimly, were her own thoughts this lovely autumn 
afternoon, as, having taken her sketching things to her 
favorite stile, she had tried to express many things with 
her one brush, and had failed to make a picture at all re- 
sembling what she saw. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


79 


The afternoon was closing in. On the upland meadows 
spread out before her the cows were feeding as if this da) 7 
were their last,, for the shadows were lengthening and 
milking-time was approaching. She had gazed at the dis- 
tant forest land till she turned away impatiently, feeling 
that she could not take in the thoughts she dimly found 
there, and so looked toward the right, where she could 
catch line upon line of undulating country, penciled out 
in milky blues and invisible greens, while here and there 
pale-yellow patches showed where corn-fields or stubble- 
fields were announcing with their silent speech that man 
can not live on beauty alone, but requires food also; in 
other words, that the needs of man*s body have equal 
power as well as his spiritual necessities. 

Elva threw her paint-brush on the grass, and, hiding her 
face in her hands, listened. The wind was bearing her a 
message over the moors, and the wonderful voices of the 
trees which interpreted the wind, were plainly audible. 

“ Miss Kestell!” 

She started up as if the call had been supernatural, as 
if she were bound to follow, as if the moment had come 
when her vision would become clear and her life full of ex- 
pected promise. Up till now she had been, so it seemed to 
her, all failure. She had tried to write, and her efforts had 
covered her with secret shame. She had tried to find a 
voice in music, in drawing, in the deep love she bore to 
her father and her sister ; but she was still unsatisfied, and 
now, in the pause she had made to listen, she had heard a 
message of greater fullness, of greater possibilities; and 
when the voice, for the first moment unrecognized, so low 
was it, had called her, she was prepared to follow. She 
rose up in all her beauty of coloring and young womanhood 
to find only — yes, only — Walter Akister beside her! 

The revulsion of feeling was so great that she said not a 
word. 

As to Walter Akister, now that he had made her get up 
and could see her in all the loveliness of her happy youth- 
fulness, he became mute. He could not tell her that he 
had seen her from a long way off; that he had followed her 
stealthily, like a Norway hunter follows the track of the 
wild deer, and that for a moment he had stood by her side 
unperceived, and had felt that if only he could tell her all 


80 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


he was experiencing, Elva, who had never shown him the 
least attention, must give in. 

Good heavens! but how could she know? The moment 
she stood up and confronted him, Walter’s fierce, brood- 
ing, bad-tempered nature reasserted itself strongly. He 
was again the shy, wayward man, whom neither men nor 
women ever thought of liking or making friends with. 
The irony of such natures is dreadful; the passion they 
have no power to express — and which it seems some evil 
demon turns to hatred almost as easily as to love — is often 
stronger than in more happy-minded beings. Happiness 
for such people is only a name; if given to them, the 
draught seems to turn to poison as it touches their lips; 
and this is no exaggerated language. Something — the 
riddle of which is too complicated to solve — ties them 
down, not only to their misery, but to the misery of others; 
and yet, let us say at once that Walter Akister, up till 
now, had been no man’s enemy but his own. He seemed 
to be possessed of two natures, one full of passionate love 
and wish for enjoyment, and the other possessed of a strong 
determined force to frustrate the enjoyment of all pleasure 
and turn every cup of luscious wine into bitter vinegar. 

For a few moments Walter had stood unseen by Elva, 
and had thought that if she would be his wife — let the 
probation be never so long — he would show her all that 
love and devotion could do for woman. He would teach 
her the depth of truest, noblest worship; but, suddenly, 
his other and stronger self asserted its presence. The evil 
cloud of doubt, of pride, of fancied wrongs, of perverse 
judgment, of obstinate imperviousness came down upon 
him, and he was dumb. As for Elva, when she had re- 
gained her power of speech, and with it a visible expres- 
sion of impatience, she remarked : 

“ How you startled me, Mr. Akister! You might at 
least have — ” 

She did not know how to finish, and so sat down on the 
step at the foot of the stile, and began to collect her ma- 
terials. 

Her words were like so many daggers to poor Walter, as 
if in a vision you had been promised a sight of Heaven, 
and had, instead, been shown Dante’s Inferno. 

“ I am very sorry,” he stammered, leaning against the 


KESTELL OF GllEYSTONE. 81 

stile. 46 1 ought, perhaps, to have let you know 1 was 
coming; but — ” 

He made a plunge, this being the most unwise thing he 
could do, when Elva, as he must have known, guessed 
nothing of his intentions. 

44 But what? I dislike being startled. Pm going home 
now; the shadows have all altered.” 

44 But, please, don’t go this minute; I want to say some- 
thing to you.” 

Still, Elva guessed notbingf how could she, seeing that 
Walter Akister’s manner was as cold and as surly as 
usual? He seemed to command her, even though his 
words were ordinary; and Elva disliked commands in any 
form. 

44 Then you can walk my way,” said Elva, 44 or as far 
as 1 go,” she added, thinking what a loss it would be if 
her lovely walk should be spoiled by the presence of that 
stupid, surly Walter Akister. 44 1 think 1 shall find Amice 
down by the church; the evening service must be over.” 

This matter-of-fact way of viewing his presence once 
more upset Walter’s calculations, but he was driven to his 
ruin to-day by his evil genius. 

44 1 came down to spend a few days at home on purpose 
to see you, so you might spare me a few minutes.” 

44 To see me!” exclaimed Elva, in a tone of surprise, 
and just a little mollified — for what woman can resist, on 
being taken unawares, the charm of being specially singled 
out, even by the man she hates, or worse, by the one she 
despises? 

44 Yes, to see you. You never seem to guess how often 
I do come home for this reason. Do you fancy it is for my 
father, who hardly knows whether we are in the house or 
not? or for Betta, who — ” 

44 What are you saying?” gasped Elva, feeling the color 
mounting to her cheeks, and looking at the long stretch of 
moorland before she could reach the valley. Then her 
eyes wandered toward the vicarage chimneys that peeped 
up above the firs. This was the nearest house, and she 
would go there. 

44 Don’t you understand me?” he said, growing more 
surly, because more hopeless. 44 That ever since I’ve lived 
here I’ve loved you, and now that you are going into the 
world you ought to know it, because— there, I must say it 


82 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


— it drives me mad to see you talking to other fellows. 
Look here, Elva, Fve loved you always since I’ve known 
you, and always shail. 1 shall ask you again and again. 
You don’t love any one else now, but you may meet some 
one who you may fancy loves you, and then — ” 

Elva was too much surprised and too angry to interrupt 
this speech sooner, now, however, she found breath to say, 
as she stood still and looked fearlessly at her strange lover: 

“ 1 don’t know how you dare speak to me like this, Mr. 
Akister; I never knew you-cared about me— I never even 
guessed it — and let me say, once for all, I shall never, 
never love you, and certainly 1 will never marry you. Pray 
let that end the subject. And now, please, let me go 
home alone.” 

Elva steadied her voice and looked like a queen com- 
manding a subject; but inwardly she was frightened by the 
strange, terrible look on Mr. Akister’s face. She felt in- 
clined to cry, for her romantic ideas had received a great 
shock. She had fancied love coming in the form of all 
that was beautiful and lovely; but in this shape it seemed 
altogether dreadful. However, Elva was brave, and none 
of these feelings appeared on the surface. 

Suddenly Walter Akister repented. He was angry with 
himself for having been so rude, so altogether different 
from his intentions. He could have knelt down at her feet 
at this moment and prayed for her forgiveness; he could 
have asked her to curse him if she could forgive him after- 
ward. But all this flow of repentance remained in his 
thoughts, because of his shyness and of his pride. 

However, he was subdued and penitent enough, even 
outwardly, for Elva to see it. She breathed again more 
freely, and her limbs trembled less. 

“ Forgive me,” he said, in a low voice, in which Elva 
could hear the tone of terrible dejection. “ Forgive me! 
I was mad just now. But you don’t understand what I 
feel, and what I mean. Will you forget my horrible rude- 
ness, and remember only the cause?” 

Elva's feelings were easily touched. Much of her charm 
was in that varying mood of manner and of expression of 
thought. She held out her hand, though without moving, 
for she meant to get rid of her lover. 

He seized it for a moment, and then dropped it. 

44 If you mean nothing but forgiveness, I would rather 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


83 


not take it. Good-bye! You may forget all this, though 
I can not. Remember, I shall never change. That night 
of the dinner-party at the Eagle Bennisons I found out 
that I must tell you. I couldn’t bear to see that London 
fellow near you. I hated him.” 

Then, abruptly turning away, Walter Akister took the 
upward path toward the Beacon. 

Elva continued her walk home in a new frame of mind. 
She saw nothing more of the beauty around her. She only 
knew that she was strangely moved, and very angry with 
Walter Akister except for his last words. Iloel Fenner 
suddenly appeared to her, when contrasted with Walter 
Akister, like a beautiful preux chevalier. So clever, 
so courtly, so worthy of being admired. Strange that, in 
pleading his own cause, Walter had advanced that of the 
“ London fellow.” Half an hour later Elva tapped softly 
at her father’s door. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PROUD OF HER NAME. 

It was the day Mr. Kestell came home early from Grey- 
stone. He often did so now, leaving much to his partner; 
but on Thursdays he was usually at Rushbrook by four 
o’clock. The first thing he always did on arriving was to 
go to his wife’s sitting-room, which, as we have seen, was 
the most luxurious place in the house. By four o’clock 
Mrs. Kestell had got over the fatigue of getting up and 
eating her luncheon, and was at her best, looking forward 
to her afternoon tea, which was brought in when she made 
up her mind to ring for it. At this time Symee was in at- 
tendance, and reading to her mistress. 

“The best was,” as Mrs. Kestell often said, “that 
Symee, having been taught well, and having always lived 
with educated people, could read well, and never dropped 
her h’s.” 

By this Mrs. Kestell meant it was best for herself, and 
not for Symee, because the invalid could not bear to hear 
an uneducated intonation; it jarred her nerves. 

When Mr. Kestell entered, Symee always put a mark in 
her book, and left the room; and then might have been 
seen the most tender, lover-like behavior on the part of 
the old man, who, having married for love, had never, 


84 


KESTELL OE GREY STOKE. 


even to himself, allowed how little pleasure he had derived 
from his marriage. 

“Well, darling, ” he said to-day-^-and it was only a 
repetition, with variations, of many past days — “ how do 
you feel now? Does this warm weather try you? What a 
glorious autumn we are having!” 

The kiss he imprinted on his wife’s still un wrinkled fore- 
head was gentle and loving as a woman’s; and the action 
of putting on her shawl, which had a habit of slipping off 
— sharing its owner’s want of strength of purpose — was 
touching in its unobtrusive thoughtfulness. 

But Mrs. Kestell was accustomed to all these attentions, 
and took no special notice of them. 

“ Well, yes, the weather is very trying, Josiah. I 
thought of taking a short drive after lunch, but I could 
not make up my mind about it, and now it will soon be 
too chilly.” 

“ Wouldn’t a little turn in the garden be good for you, 
if you took my arm?” 

“ Oh, dear, no! You would walk too fast. You don’t 
half understand all I suffer; men never do. No, you had 
better not trouble yourself about me.” 

The injured tone came into her voice. One might have 
fancied her husband had asked her to go up the Matter- 
horn. 

“ Very well, dear; do just as you fancy. But really the 
air is delicious, and such a sky as there is this evening. 1 
expect Elva is sketching. She seems to have taken to her 
drawing again lately. Your mother was a good artist. 
It would be odd if neither of the girls inherited it.” 

The jnention of Lady Ovenden was, however, quite a 
mistake. 

“ Of course my mother had great advantages — the best 
masters and the best society — which my poor girls have 
never had. I believe it is that which makes Amice so 
quiet. She wants shaking up, and mixing with people — 
people of her own standing, I mean.” 

Mr. Kestell’s face was troubled; there passed over his 
handsome, benign features a distinct look of pain. 

“ But what could we have done, dear? You know Elva 
never would go to school, or she could have been to the 
best; and Amice would not leave her sister, and then you 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 85 

have never been strong enough to take them about, and 1 
could not leave you. ” 

There was no shade of annoyance in his voice — only one 
of deep concern. 

6 6 1 know all that, Josiah; but still it does seem strange 
that we, who are so much better off than the Fitzwill- 
iams, can not give our girls the advantages their cousins 
have.” 

“ Shall we ask Mrs. Fitzwilliam to take the girls out 
next spring? I fancy that if we offered to pay for the 
house in town and all expenses she would certainly not re- 
fuse!” 

“ 1 dare say not. Ellen never does make her ends meet, 
I feel sure; but I know what she would do; she would 
make her girls take the foremost position, and she is quite 
capable of making Elva and Amice play the role of poor 
cousins! That would never do. .The best chances would 
be all for her plain daughters.” 

Mr. Kestell smiled a wintery smile, however. Money 
seemed to be able to do so little for him and his own 
people. 

“ Still, 1 fancy, Elva, at all events, wouldn’t let herself 
be treated as a poor cousin! My little girl would make her 
mark anywhere. ” 

“ So would Amice,” put in Mrs. Kestell, in an injured 
voice; though she was willing to find fault with her young- 
est daughter herself, she was jealous for her. “ With her 
voice she would be asked out everywhere.” 

“ If she would sing.” 

“ How very unfair you are to Amice. You know she is 
not always in a mood for singing.” 

“ Yes, of course; I meant no harm, dear. Now, speak 
about yourself. Would you like to have another opinion?” 

“ Dear me, no; that last London man did no good at 
all; those great men are so conceited. They comedown 
with preconceived notions, and never listen to one’s symp- 
toms.” 

“ 1 thought he took such pains.” 

“ Just because he asked such a high fee! That is like a 
man, really, Josiah; after all these years you might know 
better. Pray ring the bell for my tea. I suppose you will 
wait for the girls.” 


86 


KESTELt of greysto:ne. 


“ No, dear; if you like I will have a cup of tea with 
you.” 

“ Oh, no, I like to be read to as I eat; I digest better. 
If you ring, Symee or Amice will come.” 

Soon after, Mr. Kestell was slowly pacing his own room, 
plunged in deep thought, which, if judged by the weary 
look on his face, could have been nothing very inspiriting. 
Every now and then he murmured : 

“ I did my best for her, my very best. I said she should 
want for nothing. I could not give her health— every thing 
else. Good heavens, everything else!” 

It was out of this brown, perhaps black, study that he 
was aroused by a knock at his door. 

Iiis “ Come in!” brought in Elva. Here, at all events, 
was the bright spot of his life; and his whole face bright- 
ened. 

“ Papa, are you busy?” 

“ Never too busy to see you, dear; and, in truth, just 
now I was doing nothing. ” 

He went to his arm-chair and sat down by the fire, for, 
as his wife said, it was getting chilly, and the fire had just 
been lighted. The daylight was merged into a golden sky; 
the autumn afternoon was ending in exquisite beauty. 
Elva flung off her hat, and put down her sketching-bag as 
she approached her father. It did his heart good to see 
her perfect confidence in him; there was not the slightest 
fear of him expressed in her actions, only a certainty of 
finding sympathy, which seemed to make the blood flow 
more freely in his veins; for, if not imbittered by thoughts 
of the future, or the past, this mutual confidence between 
parent and child is one of the most divine feelings man can 
experience. He saw that Elva felt perfect trust in him, 
and that her great affection, which made her feel herself 
his equal, and also made her look up to him, was an abso- 
lute reality. He, too, was quick to catch the tones of her 
voice, and he added: 

“ What is it, darling? Something is the matter. Not 
another novel, is it? Never mind, there are ways and 
means of getting any book floated. Sinnel told me that 
when I had my secret interview with him.” 

“ No, no, papa; it’s not that. 1 shall never write an- 
other novel. I mean, never one I shall want you to pay 
for. I see money is really of no use in such cases. Per- 


KESTELL OE GREYSTONE. 


87 


haps, after all, literature is the only real republican thing 
in the world! We must stand or fall by the judgment of 
one’s fellow-creatures; but—” 

Elva felt shy and stopped short. 

44 What is it? No, not — love?” 

The idea came suddenly, and seemed to send a dagger 
through him. He could not spare his Elva to another — the 
one joy of his life which had not disappointed him. Then, 
suddenly checking this spontaneous feeling, he thought 
only of his child’s happiness. 

44 No, no; not love, but — oh, papa, don’t tell any one. 
I can trust you. I know I can. You see, mamma is wor- 
ried so easily. It’s no use telling her: but you are never 
worried. You’ve always done everything for everybody. 
I do believe there is no one like you in all the world.” 

How her words warmed his poor heart; but he only 
gently pinched her ear. 

44 Foolish child, what a flow of words! But what is this 
great misfortune?” 

44 It isn’t any misfortune; at least, I suppose not; but I 
felt so miserable, so frightened. Fancy my being fright- 
ened! But promise you won’t tell.” 

44 Word of honor.” Then quickly he added: 44 But you 
can trust me, Elva, can’t you, without protestation?” 

44 Of course. You’re the most honorable man 1 know! 
You couldn’t betray any one. Well, it’s about Walter 
Akister. He — he made me an offer, and I felt as if I must 
tell somebody. Amice would be angry; but you —you will 
be just.” 

Mr. Kestell did not in the least realize the scene Elva 
had passed through, or he would not have taken her words 
so quietly. His sang-froid made her fancy she was silly to 
have been afraid, for Elva was not yet learned in love. It 
was her first offer. 

44 And you do not love him, child? Don’t mind me; 
tell me the exact fact. 1 only want your happiness. Heaven 
knows! even though — ” 

He was careful of not giving his own opinion of young 
Akister before knowing if Elva loved him, and he paused. 

44 No, no, papa; 1 don’t love him; I can’t bear him. 
He is so strange, so rough, so — No, no, there’s nothing 
in him that I like; but — I am sorry for him.” 

Mr. Kestell breathed more freely. 


88 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


44 Don’t be in a hurry, dear. Remember his family is 
all that can be desired. He has rank and wealth. I know 
Lord Cartmel is rich — richer than if he had large estates; 
and though his hobby, of course, is very expensive, yet he 
is very just; he will not injure his children.” 

The hand that held Elva’s trembled a little. She knew 
not why; and hardly noticed it. 

44 Papa, that is like you to be so good. I knew you 
would understand; but what do I care about rank and 
wealth? You always say we shall have enough. We are 
rich, aren’t we?” 

44 Rich,” said Mr. Kestell, quietly, in a low voice, as if 
half to himself, 44 there are so many ways of understanding 
that word; but anyhow, child, you need not marry for 
money. I hope I have prevented that; on the other hand, 
remember that Walter Akister can not possibly love you 
for your money, there is no need of that. Only for your- 
self, my child. ” 

44 For myself!” said Elva, rising and standing in the 
half fire-light, half-reflected cloud-light. 44 Yes, I see that 
is a great thing; but, papa, I want to love, too. I know 
that I could love, only he must be more perfect than you 
are to make me love him better; and I never, never could 
love AValter Akister. Oh, papa! just think, who could?” 

44 1 never, never could love Walter Akister.” These 
words sunk deeply into Mr. Kestell’s mind. Why, he 
hardly knew, as they were most natural, considering the 
subject of them! 

44 And you are quite sure your mind is made up? What 
do you want me to do?” 

44 That is what I wanted to speak to you about. Per- 
haps it isn't very generous of me to tell you all this; if I 
hadn’t wanted very badly to tell somebody, I would have 
kept it to myself, for Walter’s sake; but it is safe with 
you. You must appear not to know it, papa. Don’t 
mention it to any one, not even to mamma, if you don’t 
mind very much, because — ” 

44 Your mother has a right to know, Elva.” 

44 She might think that — oh, you know mamma believes 
in the aristocratic people she came from. Our family, 
papa, wasn’t so aristocratic; but just as good and noble, 
for all that! I’m proud of being a commoner; you believe 
me, don’t you? I wouldn’t be a lord’s daughter for any- 


KESTELL OE GREYSTOKE. 8& 

thing. One is more free, and then one can hold one's 
head just as high!” 

The girl knelt down beside her father and put her arms 
round his neck, and laid her soft cheek against his fur- 
rowed face. 

“ Dear, dear papa, keep my secret, and you do believe 
me, don't you, when I say I would much rather be Kestell 
of Greystone's daughter than Lady Cartmel?” 

Sometimes out of the mouth of babes come very sharp 
swords. 


CHAPTER IX. 

SECOND SIGHT. 

Every one has noticed that if some event which appears 
to us personally of importance takes place, it is very often 
followed by another. We can look back at certain years 
that seemed crowded by these so-called “ turning-points;” 
we can trace the net-work for a little space, till, feeling 
giddy, as if we watched too closely a very varied landscape 
from a high tower, we are glad to give up the scrutiny, 
and go down to a lower level. But even as these events 
are taking place, we are conscious that they do not come 
singly, and that the proverb 4 4 Misfortunes never come 
alone,” has a strange truth in it, so that one wonders if 
the events of our lives have cycles like comets and meteoric 
showers. 

Mr. Kestell's interview with Elva, full as it was of 
strange happiness for him, was not one of unmixed joy. 
He was more disturbed than he cared to own about young 
Akister. He must, of course, keep Elva's secret; and he 
hoped neither the young man nor his father would speak to 
him on the subject, for, of course, his 64 little girl '' must 
please herself. But it was unfortunate, very. To look at 
Walter Akister, one could not fancy him in love. Elva was 
right. But, apart from the man himself, his position was 
all that could be desired. Was his wife right, and ought 
his girls to have more advantages? All these thoughts 
passed through his brain that evening when he went as 
usual out of the front door to the bridge, where he could 
see the placid waters of the Pool. Summer or winter, wet 
or fine, Mr. Kestell always walked out to the bridge after 
wishing his wife good-night. Sometimes he only stayed a 


90 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


minute; sometimes, if the evening were fine, or the moon 
shining, he would stop a little while. 

The autumn evening was perfect; the moon bright and 
soft; a little thin cloud was stretching right across her face 
like a man's hand trying to hide her beauty. The Pool 
was placid and still; only now and then a water-rat splashed 
in from the bank, or a moor-hen was disturbed. 

Mr. Kestell was not thinking of beauty as he stood there. 
For beauty to affect us we must have a heart free from 
care, and bring our offering of a calm spirit to her shrine. 

Suddenly he turned, and there, close beside him, stood 
Amice. Mr. Kestell was startled for half a second. He 
had not heard her coming. And then he was angry with 
her for startling him; and yet he would not have owned to 
either feeling for the world. 

44 You, Amice? Won’t you catch cold?" 

As well as frightening her father, however, it seemed 
that Amice was herself nervous. The hand that held her 
white shawl trembled. 

4 ‘ Elva is playing, papa; so I thought I would tell you 
before 1 forgot — " 

Yes, across the narrow strip of lawn at the side of the 
house came the sounds of a piano, full-toned and well- 
played. But to-night the strains were melancholy. 

44 Forgot what, Amice?" 

Mr. Kestell did not alter his tone, which was gentle and 
kind. Still Amice hesitated. She. hardly knew herself: 
only sue was afraid of her father, and he could not bear to 
see this fear. How different from Elva's lo7e and con- 
fidence! 

64 1 forgot to mention that Symee told me that her 
brother's holiday was to begin to-morrow. I went down 
to the farm to-day, and asked Mrs. Deeprose to get his 
room ready as usual. " 

44 Oh, yes, of course, of course. Still, my dear, you 
might have mentioned it earlier in the day; I would have 
gone down myself to see that everything was ready." 

Mr. Kestell was returning hastily to the house, and 
Amice was by his side. She had on her simple evening 
dress of white serge, and was not given to being fashion- 
able, having, as Miss Heaton put it, 44 much too flowing 
ideas about dress for a girl who went to church." 

Mr. Kestell was not a man who understood fashion in 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


91 


female attire; but he knew that Elva always looked well- 
dressed, and, like other people, only nicer, while Amice 
was always strangely attired, he knew not in what. 

“Jesse Vicary is easily satisfied; besides, he feels quite 
at home at the farm. What I wanted to add, papa, if you 
will not mind — might we not let Symee go there, too, for 
a few days? Mrs. Deeprose can put her up; and for a lit- 
tle while she would be happy with her brother all alone . 99 

“ But, my dear Amice, your mother— what will she 
say?” 

“ I can take Symee’s place — I am sure I can; mamma 
is accustomed to my doing things for her.” 

“ Not at all suitable. And, indeed, I don’t know — 99 

They entered the drawing-room, where Elva was play- 
ing; but she jumped up as she saw them coming in. 

“ Papa, isn’t it good of Amice? I told her to go and ask 
you. You must agree; think of the pleasure they will 
have. I’m sure, if Amice and I were separated nearly all 
the year, we should want to be quite— quite alone for a 
long, long time.” 

“ Settle it among yourselves,” said Mr. Kestell, quie.tly; 
“ but I insist on your mother’s wishes being first consult- 
ed. Now sing something, one of you, before 1 go to my 
study. I have some work to-night.” 

Mr. Kestell sat down with the paper; but he saw Amice 
shake her head when Elva tried to make her sing. So it 
was Elva who entertained him; and her sweet, clear voice, 
so full of joy and hope, made him forget the annoyance he 
felt at Amice’s request. 

When he was gone the two girls were left alone, and 
then it was that Amice appeared gradually to thaw, like a 
winter flower brought into a warm room. There was a lit- 
tle sigh of relief when at last she went up to Elva, who 
was gazing out of the one window which was allowed not 
to be shut. 

Elva was thinking over Walter Akister’s words, and 
wishing she had not been out alone upon the moor; but she 
was recalled to the present by Amice’s arm round her 
neck, and feeling a kiss imprinted on her forehead. 

“ Oh, Elva darling, don’t have anything to do with 
him; he would make you unhappy.” 

Elva visibly started. 

“ With whom?” 


92 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


44 Walter Akister; I know you are thinking of him.” 

Elva, for the first time in her life, looked at her sister 
with a troubled look in her eyes. 

44 Amice dear, what do you mean? How could you tell? 
Did papa — ” 

Amice knelt down, and hid her face in her sisters 
shoulder. 

“ Don’t ask me any questions, dearest, 1 shall have to 
answer you, and I don’t want to. It is not my fault; per- 
haps it is because we are sisters; I have read of it in books, 
I think, but sometimes it frightens me myself. Don’t be 
angry, Elva— that would only add to my misery.” 

46 Angry with you. Amice — how could I be? We have 
shared everything together, haven’t we, ever since we were 
tinies? But this one thing 1 thought 1 ought not to tell 
you, and then you — you— come and tell it to me. I don’t 
understand.” 

Amice rose up and stood close to the window, the 
strange, weird light falling on her, and making her deathly 
pale features appear almost supernatural. 

“ I don’t wonder,” she said, clasping her hands, 4 4 that 
you do not understand it. I do not either. Do you re- 
member the evening of Mrs. Eagle Bennison’s dinner-party? 
Wei], it was then it came to me for the first time. I had 
been thinking of all the great things women have done for 
the good of others, and I wanted to be like them in the least 
particular. I seemed to wish to give up all these riches 
that surround us, and which every day made me love pov- 
erty the more; and then, after a long time- — Oh, dear 
Elva, keep my secret; tell no one— promise me.” 

Elva nodded her head silently. 

44 It was then, as I knelt on the floor, lost in thought, 
that a new, strange feeling came over me. I can not ex- 
plain it; but I seemed to see things differently. I seemed 
to understand what others were feeling, not by word or 
picture, but by some sense that was quite different from 
anything I had ever known before. I felt that Symee was 
upstairs suffering and wanted me, and I went, and then — 
I was frightened myself to find it was true.” 

64 But about Mr. Akister,” said Elva, still inclined to 
think that Amice was ill; and that she had overtired her- 
self with tramping about to the cottages. 

44 That came suddenly; because it is not always with me 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 93 

this power, or gift, or curse. It comes and goes, and 1 am 
afraid of it; afraid of using it wrongly; afraid of despising 
it if it is a gift of Heaven. Elva, never tell any one.” 

“ I never will,” said Elva, feeling that, if she did, some 
might pronounce her sister mad. “ I believe you have 
been overtiring yourself, and worrying about — being too 
good, 1 think. I never feel like that. 1 love everything 
that I can enjoy, and I can not see the harm of it.” 

“ No, no; not for you. Don’t think I am blaming you, 
Elva. How could 1, when I love you more than any one 
on earth? Perhaps it is love that is teaching me. I seem 
to read your thoughts just now, just as if you had spoken 
aloud.” 

Elva did not believe this, though she was forced to ac- 
knowledge that Amice was right about Walter Akister; but 
the whole thing was so strange, so uncanny, that she put 
away the belief in it. The only true thing was that her 
sister Amice was too good, and wanted to be taken out 
more among other people. 

“ I was thinking of Walter Akister, it is true; but what 
else could you see, you naughty thought-reader?” 

Amice smiled now. Elva took the revelation in such a 
matter-of-fact manner that she was a little comforted. 

“ Nothing except that Walter Akister was wanting you 
to do something, and that you were wavering, and 1 felt I 
must speak and tell you to be firm.” 

Elva laughed brightly now, as she kissed Amice. 

“ 6 Second thoughts are best/ is the saying; so first 
thoughts maybe wrong, and yours are wrong, quite wrong. 
Walter Akister did ask me something this afternoon; but 
I never had the slightest idea of saying 6 Yes/ and I never, 
never shall. Set your mind at rest about that, and don’t 
believe these pictures.” 

Amice was not hurt or offended, only relieved. She 
tried to put away the idea of harm to Elva— that was all 
she cared about. 

“But about Symee — how could I have known?” she 
added after a moment. 

“ Why, Amice, you are always thinking that some one 
or other wants you, and worrying your brains about people 
in trouble. It is fortunate that we live together, or you 
would soon be ruined. By the way, have you spent all your 


94 


KESTELL OE GREYSTONE. 


allowance? You will want a new dress soon. Papa, I saw, 
noticed the shabby serge, though he said nothing.” 

“ Did he? I am sorry. I have spent every penny. 
That old Jeffrey Hull has been so long out of work that I 
lent him some.” 

“ Papa or Mr. Ileaton would have done it. Oh, dear 
Amice, you ought to have no money!” 

“ I wish I had none. How it would help one to be good 
to be obliged to earn one's daily bread. Think of all the 
people who have no capital. What would Catherine of 
Sienna have said to have been rich? She never could have 
been.” 

“ Oh, dear Amice, that was all very well for those days; 
people admired rags, and visions, and miracles then; but 
now nobody does really. It’s much nicer to be very rich 
and give great sums to build people’s palaces, and markets, 
and things of that sort, than to go about looking saintly. 
You know doctors only put it down to want of nerve- 
power, or morbid feelings; so it’s no use at all. Then, 
Amice, don’t mind if 1 say something else. 1 wish you 
wouldn’t look so shy and frightened when you speak to 
papa. He is so dear and good he pretends not to see it; 
but I know his nature, and he does. He is so good to us 
that 1 can’t bear his feelings being hurt.” 

Amice had begun her slow pacing by the drawing-room 
windows; there was such a hush everywhere this evening 
that the low, soft footfall of the girl was almost ghostly. 

“ I can’t help it,” she said, covering her face. “ Elva, 
you don’t know how hard I try to be quite, quite natural 
with him. This evening, when I went out on the bridge, 
I said I would speak to him as 1 did to you or to mamma; 
but, directly I came near to him, it all came over me and 
overpowered me. ” 

“ What came over you?” said Elva, quickly. 

66 That — I mean shyness, I suppose.^ Just as if I were 
being paralyzed. It is worse than fear; oh, it is misery!” 

Evidently Amice could not be well, and Elva formed a 
plan of taking her to a doctor; but, once again, with her 
strong vitality and strength of will, Elva changed the con- 
versation. 

“ Anyhow, it’s all right about Symee. Have you told 
here Jesse Vicary comes to-morrow! How he will enjoy 
the country after that terrible, stuffy London. 1 wonder 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


95 


if he has seen Mr. Hoel Fenner again. Now, Amice, come 
and sing that song yon set to music the other evening. In- 
stead of moping you ought to be a prima-donna. Oh, 
dear, I wish you had taken a fancy to the stage, you would 
have looked lovely, and it’s easier for ladies now to sing in 
public than to get rid of all their monev, as you wish 
to do.” 

Amice laughed softly. She was very fascinating when 
she looked at ail happy. 

“ What a terrible idea; 1 would rather die than go be- 
hind foot-lights. Think of the power of all those hundreds 
of eyes. ” 

“ Yes, the power to applaud — I should like that.” 

“ I would rather sing in the dirtiest room in a back slum 
than in a theater,”' and Amice, sitting down, sung, in a 
rich and wondrously soft contralto, the following well- 
known words, which she had set to music: 

“ When shall I see the land where I would tread. 

That shrine where I would fain bow knee and head? 

In autumn — ere the autumn pass, I said; 

In winter — ere the winter time is sped; 

In spring— ere yet spring’s fair sweet feet are fled; 

In summer — ere the summer time is shed — 

And now I say, perchance when I am dead.” 

“ Amice, how beautiful!” exclaimed her sister. “ Will 
you sing it to papa to-morrow?” 

Amice rose abruptly. 

“ Don't ask me, don't ask me to do that. I can't help 
it; but when papa comes near to me at the piano — some- 
times even when he is only in the room — my voice goes. 
It is stupid, but how can one help being afraid? If only I 
were like you, and could be a comfort to him.” 

It was useless arguing, and Elva gave it up. She only 
knew that she herself loved Amice, and felt anxious about 
her state of health; but it was hard that the two she loved 
the best could so little understand each other. 


CHAPTER X. 

COUNTRY-BORN. 

The Home Farm was situated on the right hand of the 
Pools, and some way up the moor on the opposite side of 


96 


KESTELL OE GEEYSTOKE. 


the Beacon; and was, in fact, at the edge of the great hills 
before described as the Forest of Alden. All the farm 
land had originally been reclaimed from the moor; and 
certainly nothing could exceed the wild beauty of its sur- 
roundings. though it left much to be desired in point of 
fertility. How r ever, some of these upland meadows pro- 
duced fair pasture for the sleek Alderneys; and money 
being plentiful, the farm served its purpose well, and gave 
an honest living to Eli Deeprose and his wife Hannah. 
The farm-house was an old picturesque dwelling, with 
gables and stacks of chimneys which pointed to the days 
when it had been the manor, when manors were by no 
means the palatial places they have since become. 

The way to the farm w r as up a narrow valley branching 
off from the road by the Pools. A little stream meandered 
sluggishly on one side, and on the other sloping fir woods 
and larch plantations made eternal music. Then the 
ground rose more precipitously, and the wood being past, 
the path now ran by a few meadows and corn-fields — the 
harvest at present not yet gathered in — diversified by here 
and there a hop-garden. Then, further still, the farm 
buildings, with its old garden and its stack-yard, its cow- 
sheds, and pig-sties; and after this, high up, came the 
always rising stretch of forest land, till the eye reached the 
summit where, high above the farm, stood the Crow's Nest 
clump, apparently lording it over all the lower lands as an 
eagle aloft upon mountain crags. 

Every noble feeling seemed to be fostered by that special 
spot, and the noble desire for freedom w T as firmly implant- 
ed in the heart of the dwellers of the soil by the vast sweep 
of those grand high moors, which spoke to the heart of 
man of the purest and highest self-respect, and of giving 
him, with the breath of his nostrils, the command to labor 
honestly for his daily bread, and by the sweat of his brow 
to learn true freedom and true patriotism. 

“ Who would not be country-born, country-bred, in such 
a spot?" 

Such was Jesse Yicary's feeling as, finding himself, by a 
miracle it seemed to him, at Greystone, he took his modest 
bag in his hand, and walked with eager, fervent impatience 
to the farm. He had been born among those moors; his 
earliest recollections were intwined with happy memories 
of the woods, of the farm sounds and sights and works; 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 97 

and, best of all, of all those miles and miles of the moor- 
land forest, which seemed, like eternity, to have no end. 

The moment Jesse set foot in his county, though no 
parent voice was there to welcome him, and no home of his 
own awaited him, he felt happy; he could throw off the 
feeling of his life’s burden; he could forget that such 
things as sin and misery existed; he could fancy no such 
place as London existed, and no such street as Golden 
Sparrow knew him. He experienced the intoxication of 
nature, the feeling that earth called to him as her own, and 
that he answered her by saying, as in old school-boy days: 
“ Adsum.” 

Once more now he came gladly to her call, and only 
those who have experienced this feeling can understand 
what was the tumultuous joy that filled his whole being as 
he at last passed the gray walls of Rushbrook House. 

It was late afternoon, and being now so near his destina- 
tion, Jesse sat down on an old bent oak bough, where, 
quite hidden from view, he could see the house and the old 
bridge without being seen, should any of the Kestells 
come out. 

Jesse felt a vague hope that Symee might feel his near 
presence, and would run out for a moment; he had not 
been able to tell her his train, and he was too shy to go to 
the house, having, besides, an undefined dislike of going to 
any one’s back door, and not sure whether, his sister being 
merely a servant, he might assert his independence by 
going to the front entrance. He preferred doing neither; 
and, well hidden, lie gazed longingly at the familiar sight. 

The old bridge stood in the midst of trees and under- 
growth; a shallow brook, spanned by its great arch — one 
side of which was rough and uneven from the falling away 
of some masonry; while the remaining weather-stained gray 
stones were crested with dark-green ivy — trickled slowly, 
making music like the ringing of tiny silver bells. Below 
and above one only saw a tangle of boughs, through which 
the sunlight glinted here and there, just flecking the little 
brown stream beneath with spots of gold. * 

How Jesse devoured all this with his eyes, and his heart 
seemed to thank Heaven, with the sincerity of a man receiv- 
ing a priceless gift, for once more beholding all this with 
his bodily eyes. He gazed at the water, which quietly 
trickled toward him between its moss-grown banks and the 


98 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


moss-covered stones in its bed. The fields outside were 
bathed in sunlight, but the oaks and silver birches around 
him almost hid the blue sky; while, behind, the tall, red 
stems of the fir wood stood like guarding sentinels. 

Jesse listened; there was no sound but the voice of the 
stream, a few notes of a bird, and, all at once, the bark 
of a dog. 

He looked up to the bridge, feeling he must pass on, when 
suddenly he saw some one standing there. 

Jesse, though he at once identified Miss Amice Kestell, 
said to himself that he had never seen such a beautiful 
woman before. He took in every line of the head, of the 
neck, of the arm leaning on the bridge. He noted the 
pale, marble-like face, and the eyes, cast downward to the 
stream, so that they seemed almost closed. He even noted 
the white hat, with a great gray ostrich feather, which 
looked like a little soft, gray cloud that had floated down 
to rest like an aureole round that head. But, most of all, 
Jesse noted the wondrously calm expression, as if no 
thought of earth were troubling the dreamer. 

It was not love that made all his pulses quicken at this 
sight; not any earthly idea of common love came even into 
his mind ; it was more like worship given to some angelic 
being, which might suddenly appear on our path. 

Doubtless these feelings were partly engendered by 
Symee’s repeated praises of Miss Amice; doubtless, at this 
moment, his grateful heart glorified every object he saw; 
perhaps, too, Nature refuses to show her best unless she 
can place a beautiful jewel in her most lovely setting. 
Whatever might be the natural reasons of the sudden trans- 
formation and the immediate result of sight upon feeling, 
certain it is that not stronger was the effect of the sight of 
Beatrice upon Dante than of Amice Kestell upon this un- 
known, unendowed Jesse Vicary. 

Jesse was so utterly overcome with this new feeling that, 
even when Amice passed on, after a few minutes’ medita- 
tion on the bridge, he sat on, gazing at the place where she 
Jhad been; and when at last he rose and climbed up the 
path and himself crossed the bridge, he would, had he not 
feared being seen, have kissed the foot-print Amice had 
made on the sandy way. Jesse did nothing of the kind, 
however; but he passed the Rushbrook property, passed up 
the valley, turned into the track leading to the farm, and. 


KESTELL OE GEEYSTONE* 


99 


always ascending, reached it, without having been once 
conscious of anything but the image of Amice upon his 
mind’s eye. 

In sight of the familiar homestead, however, he partially 
recovered himself. You can not go into a house dreaming. 
The ordinary commonplaces of common life are powerful 
restoratives to distraction; and, with a mighty effort, Jesse 
shook off his new bliss. 

All at once he was entirely roused, for, at the open door, 
and running toward him with a glad exclamation, was his 
own twin sister, Symee. 

There was no one in the house; every one was out, busy • 
at various farm labors. Mrs. Deeprose was in the dairy, 
on the other side of the farm-house, and only the eyes of 
Nature beheld the meeting. 

44 Oh, Jesse, Jesse, there you are. I thought you would 
never come. ” 

44 How could I guess you were here?” said Jesse, now 
quite himself, for Symee was his second self — no vision — 
but the twin sister he was looking for. 44 Do you know, 
Symee, I sat down opposite Rushbrook House, hoping 
you might come out by chance. ” 

44 Oh, you stupid boy! and all the time I was here. Why 
didn’t you guess it?” 

44 How could I expect they would spare you?” 

Symee, still clinging to him, laughed as she had not 
laughed since she had last seen him, and her sweet, gentle, 
though not beautiful or remarkable face was beautified by 
love. 

44 Well, if it had not been for Miss Amice, you would 
not have seen me here. Isn’t she good, Jesse? She asked 
Mrs. Kestell to spare me, and came down here herself to 
arrange about my staying at the farm; and, just imagine, 
she is going to take my place. She did it all so kindly; 
not a bit as if she were doing me a favor, but just as if it 
were my right. ” 

44 She is an angel,” said Jesse, from the bottom of his 
heart. 

44 Well, something very like it. She is not like any other 
young lady 1 have ever seen. But now tell me — oh, tell 
me everything, only first come in, tea is ready on the table 
and the kettle is boiling. Oh, Jesse, this is happiness.” 

What a thousand little nothings these two said to each 


100 


KESTELL OF GHEYSTOKE. 


other as they sat by the homely table, eating their modest 
meal, which, to Jesse, tasted sweet indeed after his long, 
hot summer of London life. Symee asked him about his 
work, his friends, his acquaintances, interspersed now and 
then with inquiries about his wardrobe, the new shirts she 
was making him, the careless fashion in which he tied his 
tie; and he, delighted to hear a woman’s soft voice taking 
him to task in this manner, laughed and defended himself, 
till, tea finished, he insisted on taking her out upon the 
moors, after first paying a visit to Mrs. Deeprose in her 
dairy. The Deeprose pair had only been a few years at 
the farm, and were not the couple Jesse remembered in 
his childhood; still, they were good friends enough, and 
just on those pleasant terms when nothing is expected on 
one side or the other but pleasant words. Jesse always 
paid for his lodging and board in spite of Mr. KestelFs re- 
peated orders to the contrary; but the pleasure of feeling 
independent was too great, now it was attained, to be easily 
parted with. 

Now walking up toward the Crow’s Nest, while the 
shadows were lengthening and the clouds deepening into 
gorgeous crimson in the west, it was Jesse’s turn to tell his 
sister of his good fortune. 

“ I have sent in my work, Symee,” he exclaimed, after 
having told her of Mr. Fenner’s visit; 66 and it may lead to 
some more work, but I dare not think of that. Perhaps 
he will write to me here. I gave him my address. Any- 
how, it seems like a new life. I want to write something 
more congenial than those eternal tons of coals.” 

Their feet were pressing down the springy heather; the 
breeze gathering energy as they climbed higher, brought 
new strength to Jesse’s hopes. Any feet that may have 
been born to tread on heather will never again forget the 
feeling; the very muscular exertion required where the 
heather is thick and high is joy to such; the black peat 
ruts, the little gleaming pools, the crisp, dead branches of 
twig, the searching for the hidden sundew, the color of the 
asphodel, and the scent of the bog myrtle, all these, and a 
hundred other sights on a moor, go to make up that 
heather-sickness, which seizes the Scotch when far from 
home, or the dwellers of the Surrey heaths when they wan- 
der into towns or upon down lands. 

Oh! downs are beautiful, and many wonderful things can 


JvESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 101 

be seen there; but all these can be easily dispensed with by 
heath lovers if you will give them back their forest. 

For a few moments Symee shared her brother's hopes 
and feelings. He had so much more powerful a nature 
that it was easy to drag her along with him, spiritually 
speaking; but every human being has a certain amount of 
power of resistance; otherwise strange sights would be 
seen: armies of pilgrims going to the same place; num- 
berless panics; slavish imitations; but to prevent this the 
force of the unit comes in; and, just before they reach 
Crow's Nest, Symee paused. 

44 Jesse dear, you don't mean to say you would forget 
all Mr. Kestell has done, and that you would forsake the 
coals?" 

Symee was good and gentle; but, in spite of her unit 
force, she was not imaginative. Coals seemed to her suffi- 
cient to warm any one's energy. 

44 Coals of fire you think Mr. Kestell would heap on my 
head? What can it matter to him what I do, so that 1 
earn an honest living? I do not want to do more than that 
— a living for you and for me." 

44 But I am sure Mr. Kestell would not like it. He 
seemed quite anxious the other day about your keeping 
steadily to your present work." 

44 Don't be afraid, Symee; I shall do nothing rash. But 
without saying anything disrespectful — though 1 never can 
forget what 1 owe him, yet 1 am a man now, and I must 
be free. Heaven gives us a certain freedom in our lives, 
in order to make us understand the true bondage, I think." 

He spoke in a brave voice, which denoted strength and 
honesty of purpose, so that Symee was a little reassured. 

46 You must not speak of me as if I were going to take 
all your hard-earned savings, Jesse dear," she added, as 
they proceeded higher. 44 You must marry and be happy, 
and 1 shall come and stay with you. Oh, that will be 
great enough happiness for me." 

44 Marry!" Jesse shook his head. 44 I could not marry 
unless I saw a woman who would come up to my ideas of 
4 a perfect woman, nobly planned,' as Wordsworth says. 
And just imagine, Symee, what such a woman would say 
to me!" 

Jesse laughed, but not bitterly. 


102 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


44 She would say, if she were worth anything, that you 
were better than any one else in the world/* 

44 No one will ever say that but you, silly one/* 

And then the silence of the hills fell upon the brother 
and sister. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE CHANCE OF NEW WORK. 

Jesse was too happy for thought; but without the help 
of thought or words he seemed lifted into a region of in- 
tense happiness. He had been given the best gift since his 
arrival at Rush wood — the power to worship beauty and 
goodness without in a perfectly unselfish manner. Once 
bring in man*s self and you bring in man*s pain. As yet 
the pain had not come. 

The next day he took a walk with Symee along the val- 
ley of the Four Pools, and all the time he seemed to feel 
more than to think: 44 1 may, perhaps, see her; she may 
be sitting on one of the bridges, or bending down near 
some corner of the bank making the water happy by re- 
flecting her/* 

All the thoughts of the true worshiper can not be writ- 
ten, because the very channel of words seems to spoil them, 
like the bloom that is brushed off from the fruit which is 
picked by rough, careless hands. Words are not subtle 
enough for such feelings, unless a Dante may string them 
together. 

But fact often triumphs over imagination, and, to-day, 
no Amice appeared in the valley. Still it was happiness 
for Jesse. Not getting what he wanted did not make him 
despise what he had; he was not used to many good times, 
and he knew how to appreciate what he got. 

Another merry tea-party, this time joined by Mr. and 
Mrs. Deeprose, after which, like a school-boy, Jesse begged 
if he might feed the chickens, some of whose pens were 
near the fir wood a little way down. 

Symee was tired, and stayed to help to wash up the tea 
things. She was not used to this sort of work, and it 
pleased and amused her as something new; and, so doing/ 
she bestowed many blessings on Amice as she rubbed the 
plates dry and watched Jesse going off whistling. He had 
been telling them about poor Milly Diggings, and Mrs. 


KESTELL OE GREYSTOETE. 103 

Deeprose said she would send her a hamper of good things 
when Jesse returned. 

Now it happened, when Jesse had fed the chickens, and 
looked with intense pleasure at the merry multitude and 
their quaint ways of showing pleasure and anger, that, 
still whistling, he sauntered further on. The red stems of 
the firs were catching the sunlight; the brown needles 
below appeared almost scarlet, and the patches of bracken 
by the side like sheets of gold flung carelessly down. Jesse 
looked and noted, as he had looked and noted in his child- 
hood; and want of human sympathy had made him notice 
the world of Nature, and she had, therefore, revealed 
many secrets to him. 

All at once his meditation was stopped by the sound of a 
tune whistled very sweetly and correctly, and the slash of a 
stick against the ferns. There, round the corner, came a 
boy with a letter-bag — the post-boy who brought the let- 
ters from the Beacon post-office and took away what there 
might be to go. Mr. Kestell paid for this honor, otherwise 
the inhabitants of this lonely district might have tramped 
up to the post-office at Kushbrook Beacon for their letters. 
The boy was a late institution, and knew not Jesse; but he 
soon thawed under Jesse^s influence. A boy knows sooner 
than any one who means friendship to him, and he drew 
his letter forth with triumph. 

44 Be you Mister J. Vicary? Kerens a letter for you.” 

Jesse took it and finished a country talk with the boy 
before he walked on, down a lane where the blackberries 
were luxuriously overtopping the hedge, and the big dew- 
berries looked luxurious to town-tied Jesse. The lane 
ended at the foot of a small hill where the firs began again. 
Jesse made a bound on to the needle-strewn brown carpet, 
and opened his letter. He knew the handwriting; it was 
from Iioel Fenner. 

It was a short letter, but it seemed to take a long time 
to read. Jesse sat and stared at it, and read it and reread 
it, and then finally stood up against a tall, red-fir trunk. 

Thus ran the letter: 

46 Dear Vicary, — The editor of 4 The Current Header 9 
was much pleased with your work. The whole paper was 
so business-like, and yet cleverly reported, that, if you 
really mean what you told me, I believe we can offer you 


104 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


a post at the office which may lead to something better. 
We want a man whom we can send where we like to take 
reports, and do all kinds of other literary work in spare 
time, which is above ordinary hack-work, and which will 
show if you could get further up the ladder. 

“ 1 think the best way will be for me to come down on 
Saturday till Monday to stay with my friend Mr. Heaton, 
and 1 will then speak myself to Mr. Kestell about the mat- 
ter. I quite understand that you might find it a delicate 
matter to transact alone. Don’t thank me; 1 was much 
impressed with the scenery at Kushbrook, and 1 want to 
see it again. The pay would at first be the same as what 
you are now receiving, but would be increased very soon if 
you were found to be the right man in the right place. 
Yours truly, 

“ Hoel Fenner.” 

No wonder Hoel put in “ don’t thank me,” knowing all 
the time he should earn much gratitude, because in his 
heart he knew a letter would have been quite as useful as 
an interview. And the excuse about scenery was a cloak 
for quite other reasons; but then, such is human nature! 
Hoel had got a first-rate excuse for seeing Elva Kestell 
again, and he seized it, though even to himself he pre- 
tended — for no pretense is greater than that we carry on 
between our two natures — that it was really necessary he 
should go down and interview Mr. Kestell about this new 
proposal for his protege. 

Jesse stood some time rooted to the spot, with his back 
against the fir, and his heart swelling with thankfulness. 
Only now did he fully realize how burdensome had been 
his uncongenial work, how his whole being turned toward 
books, and. literature, and literary work. It seemed to him 
that had his own well-being alone been in the question, he 
would long ago have thrown over the coals and begun at 
the lowest rung of the ladder which he had longed to 
climb. But then Symee had always been part of the ques- 
tion, and no uncertainty might be thought of for her sake. 
But now all was changed; there could be no pecuniary loss. 
On the contrary, there was a prospect of quickly increasing 
his income, and thereby a nearer prospect of being able to 
send for his sister. What added to the joy was his having 
received the news here in his own dearly loved woods, with 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 105 

the autumn winds playing in the branches, as if they wished 
to add a rejoicing accompaniment to his thoughts. 

If Jesse had been told he had inherited a large fortune, 
he would not have felt half the joy that the prospect of 
this work gave him. 

After a time his thoughts turned to his friends in Golden 
Sparrow Street. It seemed almost hard that this good 
thing should have come to him, and that he could not share 
it with his poorer friends; for Jesse had a nature which 
joy has the effect of making more tender to others. The 
impulse of the best childhood, to share everything with 
those present, had never left him. 

It was at this moment of intense joy that Jesse, looking 
up, saw the well-known form of Mr. Kestell slowly coming 
down the hill. It was some moments before the young 
man moved; and during these moments he watched with 
deep reverence the man who had helped him to reach the 
pinnacle of joy he now stood upon. How often he had 
seen in his mind’s eye the venerable head with its hand- 
some features, its benevolent eyes, its gray hair just touch- 
ing the coat collar! All was photographed on Jesse’s 
brain, even to the thin, nervous hands, and the cut of his 
coat just a little antiquated, but in perfect harmony with 
the whole man. 

64 He is coming to see me/’ thought Jesse. So, reluc- 
tantly leaving his fir-tree, he walked quickly down through 
the fir-needles, and stepping over a ditch at the bottom, 
found himself close to Mr. Kestell. 

It so happened that Mr. Kestell had been deep in 
thought, and not thinking of finding Jesse here, started 
visibly as the young man suddenly stood beside him. 

44 I saw you coming, sir,” said Jessie, by way of apology 
for startling him, 44 and 1 thought if you were coming to 
see me, I might save you the rest of the walk.” 

Mr. Kestell held out his hand, and Jesse took it, remem- 
bering more that he was Amice’s father than his own 
benefactor. It was a new glory to add to many others 
which, in Jesse’s mind, crowned the gray hairs with an 
ever-bright aureole. 

44 Thank you. I did not expect you here, Vicary, but I 
am very glad to see you. 1 was coming to the farm; but 
now you are here, I need go no further. If it falls in with 


106 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


your plans, I shall be glad if you will walk back to Rush- 
brook with me.” 

Jesse turned round with an exclamation of pleasure. 

“ 1 should like it above all things, sir. This road seems 
to me more beautiful every time I see it. I must thank 
you very much for allowing my sister to come to the Home 
Farm; it is a pleasure which 1 had not expected.” 

Jesse spoke so simply and so heartily that it was, or 
would have been to most people, a pleasure to hear him. 
There was not the least cringing in his tone, but rather a 
deep respect, which, given freely, is an honor to any man 
to give or to receive. 

“And you are quite comfortable at the farm? The 
Deeproses are good and kind people.” 

As he spoke, Mr. Kestell glanced at Jesse, though with- 
out looking him full in the face. 

“ Yes; they are not, of course, the same as my old 
friends; but one can not expect that. Mrs. Norton is still 
alive, I hear, at Greystone.” 

“Yes, I give her a little pension; but she is getting 
very old now; I doubt if she will live to enjoy it much 
longer. She does not care to see people now.” 

“ km sorry for that; 1 should have liked to have talked 
over old times.” 

There was a little silence, then Mr. Kessel said: 

“ And you are quite settled with Card & Lilley? It is 
a very solid firm; no fear of any disaster with them in the 
commercial line. I am extremely glad they were able to 
give you the post you occupy now. But anyhow they 
would have given you good recommendations to another 
firm. You have always been steady and attentive.” 

Mr. Kestell seemed to be repeating his thoughts more 
than saying something that required any answer; and 
Jesse, feeling he must wait now for Mr. Fenner’s arrival, 
said nothing, though he felt somewhat guilty of the next 
remark. 

“ You will see, Vicar} T — or 1 do not doubt that you have 
already done so — that in business it is of the greatest im- 
portance for a young man to have testimonials of long 
service in the same house. A few more years of this same 
kind of work, and you will be sure to get employment 
somewhere, even if Card & Lilley were to fail. 1 think 1 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 107 

may say your future is assured; and this thought is a great 
comfort to me.” 

44 Thank you* sir,” said Jesse, quietly; he was beginning 
to feel uneasy as to what Mr. Kestell might say of his 
change of employment. 

There was another pause, and Jesse was wishing he 
might speak out openly, for concealment was very foreign 
to him; so, plunging into a subject which was nearly re- 
lated to the one he must not yet mention, he said: 

44 I was wishing to tell you. sir, that I ought to say — ” 

Mr. Kestell stopped short, and looked quickly at Jesse. 

44 What is it?” he said, very gently. 

44 That my greatest wish is some day to make a home for 
my sister. I have been trying to find a little extra work in 
order—” 

Mr. Kestell and Vicary had now reached the road by the 
Pools. There had been a little clearing made close by the 
water, so as to allow a view across. This evening it re- 
flected the crimson clouds so that one little corner looked 
like blood. Above, the silvery birches bent toward the 
Pool, as if ready to plunge into the bosom of the life-giv- 
ing water. A few reeds, with brown, withered tips, stood 
up stiff and straight, while the arrow-head at their base 
swayed slightly in the ripple. 

If Mr. Kestell noticed any of these sights before inter- 
rupting, it must have been the crimson water, which was 
for a few moments very striking; but Jesse looked at this 
and more, because, as a boy, he had often stood here and 
watched each smile, each movement on the face of Nature. 

44 1 do not advise you, Vicary, to entertain this thought; 
Symee is perfectly happy and contented at Rushbrook. I 
even questioned her on this very subject a little while ago. 
You would only take her to a very pinched state of exist- 
ence, which she has not been accustomed to — ” 

44 Symee is very brave, and we are twins; we have no 
other ties. I believe you once told me, sir, that when my 
grandmother died, I had no other relation who could take 
me in; in fact, that there were none to take pity on such 
poor specimens of mortality.” 

Vicary spoke a little lightly to hide his real feeling. 

44 None that I could find; otherwise, of course, 1 should 
not have taken you out of — •” Mr. Kestell hesitated, 44 out 
of their care, ” 


108 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


Jesse had grown up with the knowledge that Mr. Kes- 
tell had befriended him; it did not enter his head to ask 
why he had thus acted. 

Whether Jesse might now have revealed Mr. Fenner’s 
offer, to show cause why Symee should leave Rushbrook, 
had an interruption not occurred at this moment, must re- 
main doubtful; but, just as they were passing the Pool, 
Mr. Guthrie suddenly appeared, and put an end to further 
talk. 

With his usual kind geniality, George Guthrie greeted 
Jesse warmly. If he were a Conservative, and of a good 
old English family, he certainly prided himself more on his 
warm heart thfan on his birth. He never made any one 
feel that they were beneath him. 

“ Why, Vicary; you here? Very glad to see you; Fm 
particularly glad to know you are alive and well, because 
I’ve been hearing your praises sung so much lately. I be- 
gan to fancy you must be a myth. It’s a very bad omen 
when all men speak well of one, I believe, though as I’ve 
never experienced this universal approbation, 1 shouldn’t 
know what to do with it, eh, Mr. Kestell? Now, if I 
could have earned your good character, 1 should do my 
best to keep it up; but I was called an idle vagabond so 
early in life, that I grew into my character with the same 
ease as a mongrel puppy becomes a mongrel dog. I’ve 
been the patient peg to hang my bad name upon so long, 
that now 1 should be sorry to lose it. When I take to 
literature, I shall write an essay on character, and prove 
entirely that it’s made for us, and that it’s humbug to say 
we make it for ourselves.” 

Jesse felt at his ease at once; somehow, Mr. Kestell had 
had the opposite effect upon him. 

“ Indeed, Mr. Guthrie, I’m only too glad to come back 
to Rushbrook, whatever my reputation may be. But if 
you got it from Mr. Fenner, I fear it’s worth little. He’s 
been very kind to me, that’s all.” 

“ No, he was not my informant; but never mind. You 
see that one’s secret sins and virtues are found out without 
our knowing in this small world. I assure you, that is the 
only motive that prevents me doing all kinds of wicked- 
ness. I say, if 1 could do this, and no one know I would; 
but there’s the rub; Actions seem to me to be always 
accompanied by the cranes of Ibicus.” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


109 


“ I must be going in," said Mr. Kestell, quickly. 4 4 1 
shall see you again, Vicary, before you go. Guthrie, won't 
you come in and see the ladies?" 

44 Well, yes, I will; I hear Amice singing, and she would 
draw me anywhere, when she does that; but* she's like a 
mermaid — can't often be caught combing her hair and 
singing her unearthly songs. Good-evening, Vicary; 1 
shall come and call on you at the farm, and we'll have a 
good talk." 

They were near the front gate, and the two gentlemen 
went in. While Jesse pretended to cross the bridge, as if 
he were going for a walk; but very soon he returned and 
listened. He was but a poor man's son, he might not go 
within the sacred precinct that contained her; but no one 
could prevent him listening. As he listened, Jesse Vicary 's 
soul seemed filled with great thoughts of the future. Could 
not a man climb the ladder of fame till, whatever his birth, 
men would be proud to know him, and women would ad- 
mire him for himself? There was no bitterness about the 
present in this thought — only a great hope for the future. 
Some day Amice Kesteli might be proud to have known 
him. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A STRONG ATTRACTION. 

Hoel Fenner found great difficulty in getting rid of 
Miss Heaton after lunch on the Saturday when, quite 
against his better judgment, he had run down from town 
to Rushbrook. To do Clara Heaton justice, she had not 
the least idea or intention of getting married; her work 
was to prevent her brother from committing such folly, 
and this work allowed no rival object; but, on the other 
hand. Miss Heaton thought it her duty to find out the re- 
ligious position of any young man she might ask to the 
vicarage. She had faint notions that the glorious work of 
converting a young masculine soul must rank very high 
indeed when the reckoning came; but by converting. Miss 
Heaton meant nothing at all like what is generally under- 
stood by that word. She considered the Salvation Army 
very low, and, being outwardly High Church, would no! 
have asked any one if they were saved. When analyzed, 
Miss Heaton's feeling might have been called, by s~me ill- 


110 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


natured persons, one of mere curiosity. She wanted to 
know exactly what were the religious opinions of her vis- 
itor. If they agreed with hers, then she merely abused all 
the other Church parties; if the opinions did not harmonize 
with hers, ’then she tried to show the visitor how very mis- 
taken he was. It must be added, however, that Miss Hea- 
ton never held these conversations before Herbert; even 
for her it was difficult to be severe upon the religion of 
others in his presence, because Herbert Heaton seemed so 
much the embodiment of charity that, without his making 
any objections, everything that was not seasoned with the 
greatest of gifts fell flat. 

Miss Heaton found Mr. Fenner strangely unwilling to 
talk about his religious feelings, even though Herbert had 
left them alone to go to a clerical meeting at Grey stone; 
and, stranger still, as soon as he politely could, Hoel Fen- 
ner said he had business with Mr. Kestell, and disappeared. 
Miss Heaton settled that she would find out Mr. Fenner’s 
spiritual state on Sunday evening, when Herbert went off 
to a cottage service in a lonely hamlet some two miles 
away. 

46 From his answers to me, now, I very much fear Mr. 
Fenner is a Freethinker,” said Clara Heaton, preparing to 
take out some beef-tea to a sick woman, 4 4 and, if so, I 
think I can soon show him how extremely wrong he is. ” 

Hoel never gave his hostess another thought when he 
was once out upon the moor. He very much admired 
Herbert Heaton for being a man who, as far as he could 
find out, lived up to his belief, and who was a shepherd in 
deed as well as in name; but as for his sister, 44 Good 
heavens!” he exclaimed, 44 why do such women exist? It 
must be to make religion more difficult to believe in.” 

Once with his back to the vicarage, Hoel Fenner gazed 
down upon Rushbrook House with a strange, new feeling 
of admiration. The great moor, with its yellow paths and 
its delicious scent of heather and gorse, filled him with a 
new life of feeling. He could see the gray house where 
she lived peeping out from a bower of tree- tops, as if 
stretching its neck to see above the oaks and beeches what 
was taking place on the open moor. Hoel looked about 
him to try and find the place where he had met Elva; but 
he was not near enough to it. Perhaps she would be walk- 
ing or sketching to-day on this moor; why not look for her? 


KESTELL OE GREY STORE. 


Ill 


On the left of him was a copse of larch, and oak, and pine, 
which wandered irregularly down between two hills. Here 
the murmur of the wind seemed less harsh than in the plan- 
tation where only firs were found. To Hoel — at this mo- 
ment emptied of himself, because Nature was so full of 
other thoughts and impressed them upon him, and because 
love had found a weak place in his armor — it appeared pos- 
sible to him to forget himself in loving another. He won- 
dered why he had never felt like this before; why he had 
spurned the idea of love; why he had hesitated and rea- 
soned when, at last, he had seen the only woman who had 
appeared to him to rise out of a crowd, and, not by her 
special beauty or her special talent, but by an irresistible 
charm, to be to him the embodiment of woman. 

44 I have been a fool to argue about it. I fancied I was 
proof against all the fascinations of women; and now I 
find that I can’t forget this girl who had no wish to fasci- 
nate me.” 

As this moment Jesse Vicary’s affairs faded from his 
mind as if they were non-existent. All he wanted was to 
see Elva again, and to find out whether this new feeling 
would leave him as suddenly as it had attacked him. 

Elva was sitting on the garden-seat with a book in her 
hands when she heard the click of the gate; and, to her 
surprise, she saw Hoel Fenner approaching her. She had 
time to note once more every line of his handsome face, 
and to think to herself that certainly she had never seen 
such a handsome man, and such a perfect gentleman. 
Even though the thought of the criticism at once rose to 
her mind, it was not without a feeling of pleasure that she 
rose from the seat and came forward to greet him. 

44 How strange you should come to Rushbrook to-day!” 
said Elva, so naturally that Hoel Fenner felt she was per- 
fectly unconscious of his motive. He had come down with 
no anxiety as to the result; but her reception of him made 
him feel almost as if the former self-possessed Hoel were 
not the same as the present Hoel who was trying to appear 
natural. 

44 1 — I dare say you are surprised to see me again so 
soon. Miss Kestell. I have come — partly on business. 
You remember my telling you about your father’s protege, 
Jesse Vicary? Well, I have ventured to come on his be- 
half. I wished to speak to Mr. Kestell about his future. ” 


112 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


Hoel sat down on a chair which he placed a little on one 
side of Elva, so that he could watch her face. He seemed 
to see a new beauty in it. The expression seemed deep- 
ened, and less that of a willful girl, and the idea seized him 
that perhaps Elva had a lover, and that he was not the 
first, and would have come down here in vain. This idea 
at once enhanced the value of the prize, for Hoel was a 
man who hated failure. 

44 Then you have come at a good time. Jesse Vicary is 
at the farm; but papa is, I am sorry to say, not at home 
to-day. He is going to dine with a gentleman at Grey- 
stone on business. I suppose you will stay till Monday; 
and if you don't mind leaving Mr. Heaton to-morrow 
evening, I know papa will be glad to see you. Come and 
dine with us." 

Elva had forgotten that she did not mean Hoel to come 
and break bread in Rushbrook House, for some of her 
charm lay in that quick change of feeling which made it 
impossible to be sure how she would act. 

44 Thank you," he said; and then there was a pause, a 
pause which Hoel knew at any other time he would not 
have allowed in a conversation; but he was learning that 
he could fail in small talk. 

44 I am glad you can leave your work," said Elva, her 
dark-gray eyes suddenly flashing out a little defiant light. 
44 I thought critics always read the stupid novels on Sun- 
day, instead of going to church." 

Hoel could not help smiling. 

44 You do not agree that the better the day the better 
the deed?" 

44 You know I disapprove of 4 the deed;' or, rather, I 
dare say you have forgotten all about my thoughts on the 
subject" 

64 Indeed I have not. Perhaps you will not believe me 
it 1 say that I came here partly to be taught some more 
critical duties." 

44 You are saying this only as a compliment," said Elva, 
impatiently. 44 You forget that I am a constant reader of 
the 4 Review ' in which you write." 

44 Then you have perhaps read what I said of Hudson's 
book on 4 The Laws That Govern Actions?' " 

4 ‘ Yes," said Elva, thoughtfully, leaning her cheek on 
her hand; 44 but I noticed that you did not say much about 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


113 


suffering. I have often remembered what you said to me 
about it — that one could not write without having under- 
stood that word in some practical way. ** 

Hoel remembered perfectly; but he had the power of 
saying many things well, which things, however, he never 
cared to put into practice. He was like Benvenuto Cellini, 
who fancied he saw a resplendent light hovering over his 
shadow. If Hoel thought of possible pain, he also fancied 
he would be able to have a resplendent light over it. 

“I was, however/* he rejoined, “much interested in 
that chapter of it which dealt of what men have accom- 
plished when actuated by motives of despair.*’ 

Elva suddenly looked up, and one of her bright smiles 
flashed out amusement, so that Hoel felt a little nettled 
by it. It was just that touch in her of original thought 
which he admired, at the same time that he was a little 
afraid of its being used against himself. It seemed that 
this country girl might just find out that portion of him 
which was not entirely sincere. Hoel did not put this into 
words, he only felt it; but it made him more eager to make 
Elva acknowledge his superiority. The intricate motives 
which guide the actions of men and women are sometimes 
fathomed, as if by inspiration, by those of the opposite sex; 
and Elva had by chance done this now. 

“ I can’t imagine your feeling despair about anything/* 
she said, taking up the book she had been reading, and 
which she had put down. I am sure you would criticise 
your despair away if you ever had it.** 

“ Then you disbelieve in anything spontaneous in me? 
How can I make you alter your opinion?** 

Elva laughed now; it was the laugh of a bright, joyous 
woman on the threshold of a happy life. She was not go- 
ing to tell her secret, even if she forgave Hoel; and some- 
thing in him was beginning to attract her powerfully; it 
was the charm which had attracted many other persons, 
and which gave Hoel so many friends. 

“ Don’t try to, because, if you knew me, you would un- 
derstand that 1 never care to analyze opinions. A woman 
somehow guesses at truth without analyzing, as you clever 
men are accustomed to do. We like change, I suppose, 
and not to go always along the same lines.” 

“ And do you like change so much?” 

“ Yes, I do. I like being honest, though I suppose I 


114 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


shall shock you. I like change in all that is around me, 
and yet I like the same things to be always about me. Is 
that a contradiction? Amice says she is never sure what I 
shall like or dislike, and yet she knows me better than any 
one else. But how horrid to talk about one’s self! Don’t 
you think it is.never one’s self one talks about, but a per- 
son one has set up before one and called one’s self? To 
talk about one’s self is to talk about a definite person; and, 
in reality, I don’t know myself at all; I can’t be sure of 
what I shall do next, even when I have settled it defi- 
nitely.” 

Elva rose up from her seat and laughed again. Hoel 
looked at her now in surprise. Yes, she was original; 
there was nothing about her of the silly woman, which 
personage could never have appealed to him, and yet there 
was a strange uncertainty which took one continually by 
surprise. 

‘"You only experience what most of us do feel some 
time or other; except — yes, when we have a very definite 
object in view, and then we do not allow that changeable 
self its sway; we turn neither to the right hand nor the 
left. But that variableness of mind is always present in 
poetic natures. I fancy you must admire poetry. Your 
volume looks like a poet.” 

“ Yes, 1 love poetry. It seems to me almost like wan- 
dering on our moors. This is Keats; do you like him?” 

“ A miniature painter in very bright colors; but he died 
too young to give us his full maturity of thought. ” 

“ Maturity of thought!” said Elva, impatiently, “ that 
would not have been like this, it would have killed the best 
in him. He would have framed his mind after the pattern 
of critics, and we should have had a Keats who painted by 
rule.” 

Elva sat down, and turning over the pages of her little 
volume, she said: 

“ Do you know this, Mr. Fenner? What beauty would 
maturity have added to it? 

“ ‘ Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness. * ” 

And she repeated half a dozen lines of this poem. 

Hoel hardly heard the words, the music of the rich, clear 
voice was enough enchantment to a man in love. But was 
he in love? 46 Yes, certainly,” he said, in answer to this 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 115 

question. “ No woman has ever before made me feel con- 
tent to sit by her and listen to her.” 

Elva did not wait for any remark when she had done; 
perhaps she feared that Hoel would criticise something she 
loved, and happily Amice appeared at this moment, and 
Hoel found himseif looking, with great interest, at Elva’s 
sister for the first time. Neither was he to escape the 
strange feeling of having before him a being not fitted for 
common humanity, which, on the whole., rejects mystery 
as an insult to its understanding. 

Elva went to meet her sister, and Hoel followed; and 
when he shook hands and noted the marble-like face and 
the lifeless touch of the hand, he wondered how two sisters 
could be so unlike each other. The one, beautiful, with 
health, life, color, and bright eyes flashing out intelligence 
like jewels in darkness; the other, cold as clay, unap- 
proachable as a spirit form; and yet Elva seemed quite 
unconscious of the effect her sister must have on strangers. 

“ You must come in to tea,” said Elva, thinking more 
that she would like Amice to see this noted, clever man 
than of any conscious feeling herself about him. “But 
come and stand a moment on our bridge, Mr. Fenner. We 
think the view from here is perfect, and the Pool is always 
giving us all new thoughts. Papa comes here every day 
after dinner; it’s a habit. And I have seen you. Amice, 
lean over the parapet for ten minutes without moving. 
Generally, however, my sister is to be found in dirty cot- 
tages.” 

“ That is quite a fashionable taste,” said Hoel; but feel- 
ing at once it was a foolish speech to this girl, for she 
turned her large, blue eyes upon him — eyes which he 
fancied he had never seen before, and which at once gave 
him a dislike of blue eyes. He could not account for the 
repellent force that seized him. 

“ I believe it is; but here we are quite away from the 
effect of fashion, I hope. 1 like poor people, so I do not 
take any credit for going to see them. ’ 5 

“ That is not your taste, 1 think. Miss Kestell?” 

Hoel turned from one sister to the other as one would 
turn away from a corpse to a beautiful woman standing 
near by. 

“ No; 1 don’t like dirt and poor people. I am sorry for 
them; but one can be sorry without hearing all about their 


116 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


pains and aches. " They paused on the bridge. “ You do 
admire this, don't you? Look, the reflections cheat us 
with a double reality — and that filmy shadow of the filmy 
silver birches. Keats could have described it; no one 
else." 

“ It is the little bit of blue sky reflected in the midst of 
it which makes it so lovely," said Amice, as if to herself, 
“ an unknown height in an unknown depth." 

Elva put her arm in her sister's, and Hoel felt jealous 
of this mutual sympathy. 

It is Amice who is the true poet, Mr. Fenner; but she 
persists in hiding all her talents! There is one special 
thing about poets — I am not sure whether it most makes 
or mars them — which is, that unhappiness always seems to 
pursue them even when they are happy; I mean real poets, 
those who have given us something inspired." 

“ They can not forget that they are surrounded by them- 
selves, or, perhaps, they do not wish to forget it; but, 
after all, they only feel much, what, I suppose, we feel a 
little." 

“ Keats does not say that," said Amice, suddenly. 

“ ‘ And can I bid these joys farewell? 

Yes. I must pass them for a nobler life, 

Where I may find the agonies, the strife 
Of human hearts.’ ” 

But Elva's mood changed. 

66 Let us come in to tea," she said, quickly; “ mamma 
will be expecting us." 

At this moment a figure appeared by the Pool; and, 
without exactly meaning it, the three paused to see who it 
was. Hoel was close by the gate of Rush wood House, and 
Elva was by his side. Only Amice had walked a few steps 
up the drive. 

It was Walter Akister who passed; and Hoel at once 
noticed the deep blush that overspread Elva's face, the 
dark, surly look on the face of Mr. Akister, and the per- 
fect silence in which his bow was received. 

The whole scene took but a minute-, and then he was 
out of sight; but for Hoel it was enough. Elva became at 
once more precious in his eyes; for there are few men who 
do not value a woman more if she is coveted by another. 
For Love is a highly polished diamond with many facets, 
and in each a different picture may be reflected. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


117 


Hoel knew very well that lie was falling, nay, had fallen 
in love. He could even study the phase in all its bearings. 
He was not deceived in himself; but that was his way, and 
not the less real because he had the power of arguing over 
each step of the way he was taking. 

He spent a delightful hour in the pretty^drawing-room 
where everything breathed of comfort and refinement; but 
as Mrs. Kestell found herself well enough to come in and 
be entertained by him, there was no more private conver- 
sation. He walked home in the falling light across the 
moor, and up to the vicarage, convinced that Elva was 
worthy of being Mrs. Hoel Fenner. He even acknowl- 
edged her superiority over himself in that indescribable 
original force which attracted him in man or woman, 
though at the same time he knew that, as far as the out- 
ward eye could see, he was infinitely her superior. He 
felt, too, that he was like a beautiful building raised by 
skill and patient labor, while she was one of the grottoes 
which Nature had reared for herself, in order, as it seems, 
to laugh man’s effort to scorn. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 

On the wlicrte England is a church-going nation, espe- 
cially in its rural districts. The beautiful little church 
which, built by the generosity of a former Eagle Bennison, 
nestled among its firs, would certainly have been thought 
to have been built in vain had the. squire and his lady not 
occupied one seat — there were no pews, for Mr. Heaton’s 
church was known for miles round as the High Church — 
and had not Kestell of Greystone and his daughters been 
in the seat close behind them, for, to their honor be it said, 
unless absent from home, these two representative men 
always did occupy their seats. 

The squire had no particular doctrines to uphold; but 
he liked things, as he said, done 44 decently and in order.” 
He was usually tired on Sunday, from no mean bodily ex- 
ertion during the week, so he understood Sunday to mean 
a day of rest; and no one was ever surprised to see the 
squire gently nodding through the sermon. The squire 
himself was too humble to fancy his actions of any impo:- 


118 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


tance, even to the preacher, lie knew his wife would keep 
up the honor of the family. 

Mrs. Eagle Bennison always put on a special mood for 
Sunday; but it depended which Sunday it was. 

But Mrs. Eagle Bennison always knew exactly who was 
at church, and what cottager's wife on the estate had not 
followed her example of having 44 no care for the Sunday 
dinner." If she remembered the culprit during the week, 
that unfortunate woman would receive a visit; but the 
squire's wife, having rather a short memory, sometimes 
went to the wrong Mrs. Smith, and delivered the lecture 
kindly but firmly, before she discovered her mistake by the 
remark of the woman : 

44 Well, ma'am, I'm sorry to seem rude; but 1 did get 
to church, though Tom didn't much like my going about 
on Sunday morning." 

44 Then it must have been your neighbor, Mrs. Smith. 
If you were there, you can tell me the text. I always 
look it out; it's such a help during the week." 

44 1 dare say it is, ma'am; but if you'll excuse me speak- 
ing plain, texts don't help you much at the wash-tub. 
Texts seem to me like the flour before you've rolled in' the 
butter, when you're making pastry, it's best to wait to the 
end to see if it'll come out agreeable-like; but Mr. Heaton 
he most in general works 'em in well. Tom and me often 
says so." 

After this Mrs. Eagle Bennison beat a retreat to the 
other Mrs. Smith. 

Miss Heaton devoted herself to the school children, sit- 
ting where she could be in easy reach of them, and every 
five minutes making a dive at the sinner, and returning to 
her seat with some confiscated property. 

Elva had once declared she was sure the children were 
naughty out of kindness of heart for fear of leaving Miss 
Heaton unemployed. 

All this may sound very unfit occupations to be carried 
on in a church, especially in one standing, as this did, sur- 
rounded by all the works of Nature, which, in their man- 
ner, ceaselessly gave thanks; but there was many a man 
and woman who did listen, and, as far as possible, fulfill 
the highest part of their being by prayer and praise. Mr. 
Heaton, himself, was certainly one of these. When he 
came home it was in vain that Clara questioned him about 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


119 


those who had attended, his ambiguous answer of, 44 Oh, 
1 dare say he or she was there,” was apt to make his sis- 
ter say: 

66 It really is your duty .to know who comes to your 
church, Herbert.” 

Mr. Kestell neither went to sleep nor found his texts; 
but he was, as Clara expressed it, 44 quite a pillar of your 
church, Herbert.” 

44 Not my church, dear, I hope.” 

44 Well, you know what 1 mean, Herbert. Mr. Kestell 
is a great support to our schools. With all her talk, Mrs. 
Eagle Bennison is very mean; and, if it were not for Mr. 
Kestell, we should be very badly off.”' 

44 Mr. Kestell is very kind and generous; but he is much 
richer than the squire, and has no landed property.” 

“You always find excuses for people, Herbert. It’s a 
ridiculous habit.” 

When Clara was angry with him, Herbert only smiled. 

* It was safer to accept blame which only was meant for 
himself. 

On this special Sunday the small church was quite full. 
Indeed, Mrs. Eagle Bennison secretly wished both the Mrs. 
Smiths had stayed at home, as every seat was occupied. 
Jesse Vicary, who came in a little late, was put into the 
squire’s seat, fkiuch against his own will, however. 

Hoel Fenner had managed to sit where he could see the 
Kestells. In London he was not a very constant wor- 
shiper; but here, of course, church-going was expected of 
one, and Hoel, as we know, prided himself on doing what 
was expected of him; being one of those men who find it 
real pain to disappoint people if they have formed a good 
opinion of any one. 

But as his eyes traveled toward Elva, they lighted on 
Jesse Vicary. 

44 1 must speak to him after church,” he thought. 
44 How well and handsome he looks; these few days of coun- 
try life have made another man of him. Curiously enough, 
he looks here quite like a gentleman. He might be a 
young country squire, with his strong build and resolute 
face.” 

Something else Hoel saw, but did not remark in words 
to himself; and this was that Jesse Vicary was certainly 


120 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOXE. 


attending to the words he was hearing, and not merely 
watching his neighbors. 

“ It’s born in that class,” he thought, after a few mo- 
ments. “ They ought to be grateful to Nature for giving 
them so much young- world faith. ” 

And so the service went on; and if the angel of record 
passed down and noted the prayers that were uttered that 
morning, not many from Hoel Fenner were there of a cer- 
tainty. 

When the people streamed out there were friendly gath- 
erings in the fir avenue that led from the church to the 
moor. Hoel was only in time to help Elva and her sister 
into the carriage, and to greet their father. 

“ I hear you want to see me,” said Mr. Kestell, gently. 
“ Come and dine with us, Mr. Fenner, this evening, then 
we can have plenty of leisurely talk. ” 

“ Thank you; if Miss Heaton will spare me.” 

“ Then do come. All right. Turner, ” 

The horses went off. Everybody made way for Mr. 
Kestell *s beautiful horses. Mrs. Eagle Bennison, leaning 
on her husband's arm, smiled sadly at the two sisters; her 
smile meant: 

“ I never take out my horses on Sunday. I can not un- 
derstand how you can do it.” 

The look always troubled Amice, who made objections 
to driving home from church; but it was a standing cus- 
tom, which Mr. Kestell would not alter. He was always 
hoping his wife would be well enough to join him. It was 
for her sake, so there was no hope of altering, and Amice 
had to resign herself, but it was a weekly trial to her. St. 
Catherine of Sienna would never have driven to church in 
a carriage with a pair of horses. 

Hoel, seeing he had half an hour before he should have 
to apj)ear, joined Jesse and his sister. He thought the sis- 
ter looked nothing particular; but he had just adopted his 
model for perfection, and certainly Symee in no way re- 
- sembled Elva Kestell. 

46 So you got my letter, Vicary, and you agree to my 
clearing the way,” he said, when Symee said she must 
hurry home, for the blissful time at the farm was over for 
her. 

“ 1 shall be very much obliged if you would do so, sir. 
Of course, 1 do not allow that Mr. Kestell has a right to 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


121 


settle my affairs — 1 mean no real right, but from courtesy 
and gratitude 1 should wish him to approve. 1 am not 
sure, however, that he will understand the change, unless 
you explain that I shall in truth better my position; and 
as I shall be doing very congenial work, 1 shall certainly 
be happier . 99 

44 He will easily be made to understand that. Of course, 
you will have to give due notice.” 

44 A month on either side, sir. But 1 should not like to 
leave my employers in any difficulty.” 

44 As to that, a clerk's place is soon caught up. Alas, 
there are too many waiting; and the world ought to thank 
you for making room.” 

44 1 will come to-morrow and speak to Mr. Kestell my- 
self, of course,” said Jesse, decidedly. 44 He would like 
me to do that, I am sure; but he has always been so kind 
that he will make no long opposition — none, indeed, when 
he sees it will be for my good.” 

44 Of course not.” 

44 And, Heaven helping me, I will do my best in my new 
position,” added Jesse, with a quiet, determined look on 
his face. 44 When I have spoken to Mr. Kestell, I will tell 
my sister that if she will begin in a small way, she may 
come to Me at once. She can help me with copying; and 
I have an idea that I could have a type-writer, and teach 
her to use it; she is very clever with her fingers, and is not 
badly educated for her position.” 

There was such a ring of hopefulness and joy in Vicary's 
voice, that Hoel was more than satisfied he had found the 
right man. He prided himself once more on his discern- 
ment. 

44 Besides, I owe the fellow some thanks for bringing me 
down here again. It would have been difficult to appear 
without some excuse,” thought Hoel, as he retraced his 
steps, making up his mind to ramble out alone after lunch 
to avoid Miss Heaton's searching questions. 

He framed Mrs. Hoel Fenner in a gold frame, in which 
she looked lovely. She was to be much admired by the 
best and choicest literary society in London that would 
circle round them. And deep down in his heart there was 
another motive, powerful, though not specially praise- 
worthy. If he married Elva Kestell, there would be no 
need of ever applying to his uncle for a loan; and there 


1 22 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


would be no dread of that “if” which had rankled so 
deeply in his breast. The old man’s selfishness would be 
wasted, and Hoel would be sufficiently revenged. The 
London Hospital might inherit with pleasure, and much 
good might it derive from it. Still, let it be clearly under- 
stood that Hoel was not thinking of marrying for money; 
he was quite above such a thought; indeed, he would have 
preferred to marry a woman who was not au heiress, but 
as his choice had fallen on one who v/as rich, all the bene- 
fits that would accrue crowded to his brain. 

The idea of failure did not much trouble him. True, he 
remembered her blush when Walter Akister passed by; but 
he could not imagine a woman really giving herself to such 
a very unpromising specimen of the human species; at 
least, not such a woman as Elva. 

If some misfortunes cast their shadows before them, is 
it expecting too much of some events of a more joyful char- 
acter to cast reflected lights? This Sunday Elva had risen 
with a strange feeling of light-heartedness about her which 
surprised herself. If she thought about Hoel, yet it was 
not with him that she associated her happiness, though she 
looked forward to seeing him again and hearing him talk. 
When she did not remember her “ Undine ” she enjoyed 
Iloel’s conversation, as, indeed, most people did. 

Amice, whose moods were never on the surface and were 
altogether of another and stranger type, was surprised to 
hear Elva offer to accompany her to the school after lunch. 
She was accustomed to going her own way alone on these 
errands of mercy. 

The two sisters walked a little way in silence down the 
hill beyond Kushbrook, where a scattered hamlet necessi- 
tated a Sunday class in two rooms of a cottage. Miss 
Heaton much disliked this class, for here Herbert and 
Amice met every Sunday; but the young ladies before men- 
tioned not living very near had not volunteered to take the 
girls, so Amice was allowed to do it by Clara Heaton; but 
always under protest. Had she guessed that Amice looked 
upon Herbert as simply a clergyman who would of course 
• never marry, she might have been saved many an anxious 
hour. 

“ Amice dear, did not you think papa looked rather 
worried this morning? I hope that nothing is the mat- 
ter/’ said Elva, as they walked along. 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 123 

6C Did he? Perhaps he fancied mamma might not like a 
visitor this evening.” 

44 Oh, it could not be about Mr. Fenner, he seemed quite 
eager he should come. Do you like him. Amice?” 

44 Like him — whom do you mean?” 

Elva again felt a little uncomfortable about Amice; now 
and then these dreamy moods seemed to come over her and 
she seemed to hear nothing. 

“ Why, Mr. Hoel Fenner. He even managed to interest 
mamma yesterday. I wonder what he wants to say about 
Jesse Yicary.” 

Amice lifted her dreamy eyes from the ground. 

44 He has not come only about Jesse Yicary.” 

64 About what else, then?” but, as she spoke, Elva 
blushed, for Amice fixed her eyes upon her sisters face, 
and the gaze seemed to explain the mystery. Elva was 
indignant. 

46 He is not good enough for you,” continued Amice, 
quietly; 44 but I saw it plainly yesterday.” 

Elva stood quite still now, and stamped her foot. 

44 Amice, you are too ridiculous; and you ought not to 
carry your — your fancies so far; it is not right. I am sure 
Mr. Hoel Fenner has come only to see papa.” 

44 Elva, don’t look like that, I am so sorry to hurt you, 
darling. I did not mean it;” she covered her face with 
her hands. 44 Yes, 1 see it again, it is the curse on our 
family. That idea takes possession of me more and more. 
There is a curse upon us and all our doings. ” 

They were walking by the side of a fir copse, and some 
great trunks lay on one side of the road, looking vfcry in- 
viting. Elva sat down and gently drew Amice to her side. 

44 What do you mean about the curse? Why, that is 
perfectly ridiculous! Was there ever a family more blessed 
than we are?” 

4 ‘ You forget what 1 told you about myself, Elva. Is 
not that a curse? Do you not consider how hard, how very 
hard it is to — ” 

She broke off, for Elva’s face was not at all sympathetic; 
but, on the contrary, it expressed impatience. 

44 You brood and fancy till I do believe you lose all com- 
mon sense. Amice; do be sensible, and don’t say things 
which — which make me angry.” 

44 About Mr. Fenner? Well, then, I will say no more. 


124 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


only you forget, dear, that we have often talked about the 
future. You will marry some day. You have often told 
me what your husband was to be like. Oh, love must be a 
beautiful thing, when it can be pure, and great, and noble; 
when two people can offer all they have to a service which 
is above them, and just go on together fighting against 
evil.” 

“ That is an impossible ideal,” said Elva, softly. 

“ Does it seem so to you? And yet I can see it — only 
sometimes, though. It seems to me that if two could be 
found to go hand in hand into those dark alleys and those 
wicked courts in London, or elsewhere, and if they could 
go and say that they knew what happiness there was in the 
true light, even the most miserable and the most degraded 
would believe two witnesses. Do you think, Elva, it is all 
an empty vision, and only part of the — curse?” 

“ Nonsense!” said Elva. “ And there is the bell ring- 
ing, so you must not stay longer. I shall take a walk on 
the moors. And please, dear Amice, shake off all your 
ideas; indeed, it is much better to be like other people.” 
And with this advice, Elva turned back, and plunged into 
the heather. She felt troubled at what Amice had said, even 
though she dismissed it from her mind with an impatient 
gesture. 

“ I want life and love,” she thought. “I wonder if 
many girls want it as I do. I wish I could do great things; 
and yet nothing seems to happen to me except — ” The 
wind sw r ept suddenly past; and. with a little shudder Elva 
shook off the disagreeable idea. “ I won’t think of Mr. 
Akister. 1 never, never could love him. I can’t think 
how he dared to — fancy I ever could. 1 believe in happi- 
ness, even though Amice will not. She fancies (lod calls 
people to accept misery. No, no, that can not be.” 

Still fighting her way through the thick heather, and 
fighting inwardly the idea that in any way human beings 
are called to be miserable, Elva reached the foot of the 
Beacon, and, scrambling up a long bank, she sat down 
under the shadow of a Scotch fir-tree. In' a few moments 
the beauty of the scenery, the sweet scent of the heather, 
the hum of a bumble-bee, seeking out the largest flower, 
all the sights and sounds gradually numbed her senses. 
She was inhaling a narcotic. Nature seemed to be taking 
the eager child in her arms, and lulling her into a softer 


KESTELL OE GEEYSTOXE. 


125 


and more peaceful mood. The birds and the insect life 
seemed to sing the same song of happiness, and to repeat 
that life is made for joy, and that the creed of suffering is 
false; that Amice, with her wild idea of curses and of ex- 
piation, was mistaken, and that — 

How was it? Surely she was acting the same scene 
again. She had been here before; she had gone over the 
struggle, and, yes— 

4 6 Miss Kestell, this is an unexpected pleasure.” 

Elva's sudden fear was calmed; it was not Walter Akis- 
ter's voice she heard, or his strange, fierce looks she looked 
up to behold, but — Hoel Fenner. 

46 Can you wonder that one gets to love this place?” an- 
swered Elva, not surprised that Hoel sat down beside her 
as if this was his right place. 

44 No, indeed, I do not; 1 have been watching you for a 
few moments,” he said, slowly, 44 and I saw that you alone, 
in all this spot perhaps, really appreciate what you see.” 

Hoel was struggling with his own eagerness to speak to 
Elva, somehow or other to make her understand that she 
attracted him above all other women; but she was so per- 
fectly natural, that it was a harder tas£ than he expected. 
There was not the least consciousness of his admiration in 
her face; the deep gray eyes looked upon the beauty of 
nature, not on his own perfections. Hoel did not know 
that this morning Elva would have looked straight into his 
face. Jt was Amice's words that kept her eyes averted, 
even though she did not believe them. 

44 1 came out here to wait for Mr. Heaton. He said he 
might join me if he were not detained, and I believe he is 
teaching some brats now. I wonder how much good all 
that sort of thing does? 1 don't mean any disrespect to 
Herbert Heaton or his cloth; but, in the long run, isn't a 
clergyman's life rather a wasted labor? Good people are 
sometimes so very disagreeable.” 

Elva might have agreed with him a little while ago: 
now she was seized with the spirit of contradiction. 

44 How can doing things for people we love be waste of 
time?” 

44 Love is a wide term when used by the clergy, for in- 
stance. Most of them will work for duty, and duty is a 
desire to get a good deal of percentage for your money. 
Disinterestedness is difficult to find.” 


126 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


“ Oh, no, no,” said Elva, “ that can not be so. 1 know 
my sister is perfectly disinterested. I don’t think the idea 
of reward ever enters her head.” 

Elva forgot all about Amice’s stray words now in de- 
fending her, and looked straight and fearlessly at Hoel. 

“ You are a true friend, Miss Kestell,” he said, in an 
altered tone. “ The first time I saw you I was struck by 
your being entirely different from every other woman I 
have met. You must give me leave to ask you — to tell 
you something here out on this heather bank; may I?” 

There was no answer. Elva blushed deeply. After all, 
was Amice right? But how different this was from Wal- 
ter’s speech. The deep courtesy of the tone was very flat- 
tering, coming as it did from such a man. 

“ Will you give me leave?” he repeated, and there was. 
something quite new in his tone — a boyish sort of pleading 
which she had never heard or noticed before. 

“ I don’t understand what you mean,” said Elva, quite 
afraid that she was weaving a wrong meaning into his 
words because of Amice’s silly speech. 

“ Yes, I see you don’t. 1 have no right to expect that 
you should understand me; but I do ask you to believe 
me. Will you?” 

“ Yes, of course,” said Elva, recovering her breath. 
“ Why should 1 doubt you?” 

“ Because you have known me so short a time, and be- 
cause you may not believe that there is very deep, earnest 
truth in what I am saying. You remember that dinner- 
party? I am afraid I unwittingly offended you that even- 
ing, and yet I assure you I meant to do the contrary. I 
thought then that you were the most beautiful woman 1 
had ever seen, and then 1 knew that my fate had brought 
me here, and that you were the only woman I ever wished 
to — to — Miss Kestell, tell me if 1 may go on. My life 
will be dead forever if you tell me that I am annoying 
you. Shall I go on?” 

Elva was slowly picking a piece of quaking-grass to 
pieces, bit by bit. 

“ Yes,” she said; feeling as if she were another Elva, or 
not herself. 

“ I met you here on this moor the next day, you remem- 
ber. Some second sights disenchant us. 1 was not disen- 
chanted. I admired you a thousand times more. You 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


1 27 


seemed to me like a breath of this life-giving air, and yet a 
woman whom any man, all the rest of his life, might be 
proud to have loved. But when we parted I saw you throw 
away my gift of flowers. I knew then that 1 must, indeed, 
have been personally disagreeable to you. You do not 
deny it. Why should .you? I saw that you had no wish 
to see more of me, and yet — don’t despise me because I am 
making my confession. Miss Kestell — and yet I was even 
more attracted. I went home and tried to think it was all 
a happy autumn dream — a delusion that would fade. On 
the contrary; the more I tried to forget you the more your 
presence took possession of me. In short, I am here again, 
and this time there shall be no deception. I would much 
rather know that nothing can overcome your prejudice, 
your dislike, that make myself still more obnoxious to you. 
But last evening, you did not repel me. I can not tell 
how thankful 1 am to meet you, because, if 1 hear my sen- 
tence from your lips, no one need know, no one need ever 
hear that — ” 

44 It is all so strange,” said Elva, 44 what can I say?” 

44 Do not decide,” said Hoel, very tenderly; he was 
touched by her distress. 44 I only want to let you judge 
whether some day you will care to keep a bunch of gen- 
tians, if I am here to give them to you?” 

This was a very delicate way of making an offer, and 
Elva felt grateful. There was none of that fierce passion 
about him that there had been about Walter Akister; the 
very difference attracted her, for the other had repelled 
her. The relief of finding Mr. Fenner was not going to 
make her say yes or no on the spot was so great that Elva 
smiled. 

46 1 expect, Mr. Fenner, that you have made a mistake,” 
she said, suddenly; and the eyes that looked at him were so 
bright, that Hoel was more and more certain he had made 
none. 44 If you will walk round by the copse, 1 will make 
a confession, and then, after that, I am sure you will 
change your mind. ” 

44 A confession?” 

44 Yes, one that will alter the opinion } T ou have of me. 
Indeed, you do not know me any more than — ” 

44 Than you can know me. But I want your leave to 
teach you that I, at all events, do not make up my mind 
unless I am quite sure — ” 


128 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


Elva laughed now. She was young, and had the world 
before her. She was loved, and that was very sweet, even 
though she was not sure of loving, and had a confession to 
make. 

64 You once said very, very unkind things of me.” 

44 1? Never.” 

“ Yes, you did; and the truth is, 1 have never forgiven 
you. You see that 1 have so much to unlearn.” 

44 What do you mean?” 

Hoel was not much given to humor, and he resented 
Elva^s smile; for humor ought never to touch us person- 
ally if it is to be acceptable. 

44 1 do not want to tell you, and yet I feel I ought to. 
How can any one love without perfect confidence? There, 
1 will tell you, 1 wrote 4 An Undine of To-day/ 99 

Elva paused on the sandy path and faced her detractor. 

44 You were Isidore Kent?” 

Poor Hoel remembered clearly all the things he had said. 

44 Yes; now you see how differently you will think 
of me . 99 

44 But I care only about Elva Kestell,” he said, just a 
little angry that the two were the same. Hoel had no wish 
to marry an authoress; he had a very decided objection to 
women writers unless they were of the first water; and 
then only at a distance from him. 

44 And you quite despise Isidore Kent. 1 knew you 
would.” 

44 You will never write another novel,” he said, in a low 
voice, not daring to take her hand, because of that perfect 
absence of all consciousness in her at this moment. 

46 Why?” 

44 Because, if you would give me leave, 1 shall make you 
the happiest woman in the world; and the happiest women 
do not write.” 

They had reached the place where their roads parted. 
Elva paused. 

44 Good-bye,” she said, holding out her hand. 44 1 would 
rather go home alone.” 

44 May 1 ask your father this evening whether I may 
come to Rushbrook till — I know my fate?” 

44 Till I know my mind,” she said, with a brilliant smile. 
Then earnestly, in quite another mood, she added, passion- 
ately: 44 1 want life to be beautiful. I want to have room 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


129 


in the world; will love give it to me? Amice believes in 
nothing but self-denial; but 1 am not good like Amice.” 

“ Thank Heaven!” said Hoel to himself; aloud, he said: 

“ Give me leave to try, and I will make you understand 
that love can give you everything.” 

“ And if I disappoint you?” 

“ Then you will be my most loved memory,” he said, 
earnestly. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A1ST AFTER-DINNER TALK. 

The dinner passed off very cheerfully. Hoel made him- 
self charming, as he well knew how to do; Elva was a lit- 
tle quiet, but made an excellent hostess, and Mr. Kestell 
appeared to great advantage. He was so courtly, so gra- 
cious, his stories were always to the point and well told, 
that Hoel wondered how it was that he had not before 
noticed what a very superior man Mr. Kestell was, intel- 
lectually and socially. It was only Amice who did not 
contribute to the entertainment, for she was more silent 
than usual, though now and then Hoel found her eyes fixed 
on him, as if desirous to see through him. The look 
seemed to disconcert him; he even settled in his own mind 
that Elva’s sister must be a little peculiar; but though on 
the surface all was progressing well with Hoel, he was de- 
cidedly rather nervous as to the interview he should have 
with Mr. Kestell. Evidently Elva had said nothing, for 
she tried to appear perfectly unconscious, and he was forced 
to make believe also. 

Now that he was fairly embarked, Hoel rather doubted 
whether he had acted fairly by first speaking to Elva; for, 
after all, when compared with Mr. KestelPs daughter, he 
was not by any means fn a position to offer great induce- 
ment, in the way of money, to Mr. Kestell. Of course, 
there was the “ expectation;” but, as we know, Hoel hated 
this, and would have preferred not mentioning it. 

If he talked, laughed, and told good stories during din- 
ner-time, it was by some happy mechanical process, which 
long use helped to carry him through; only when he was 
left alone with Mr. Kestell did the real Hoel feel that he 
was himself again ; also, looking up with a determination 
to take his courage in his two hands, he noticed that his 


130 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 


host suddenly became silent, and for a few moments seemed 
to forget Hoel was present, as he attentively examined the 
wine in his glass. The port was certainly irreproachable, 
and a queer fancy came into IloeTs mind that Mr. Kestell 
was superstitious, and was consulting the signs in the deep 
color of the liquid. This strange silence and forgetfulness 
of his companion prevented Hoel from opening his mouth, 
and he waited till suddenly Mr. Kestell seemed to return 
from the clouds and be once more himself. 

“ You came — I mean, you wished to speak to me, I 
understand, Mr. Fenner, about Vicary. It is strange you 
should have made his acquaintance; but I am sure it will 
be of great benefit to the poor fellow.” 

Hoel felt he could not talk freely about Vicary till he 
had made a clean breast of his own affairs; as well have it 
over at once. 

“ I certainly did want to talk to you about a little mat- 
ter of business referring to Jesse Vicary; but I had better 
be honest and open with you, Mr. Kestell. I believe my 
chief wish to revisit Rushbrook was to find out — ” 

Mr. Kestell once more held the glass of port up to the 
lamp-light, and Hoel noticed that the thin white fingers 
shook a little. 

“ Yes?” he put in, for Hoel paused — 44 to find out?” 

44 To find out if 1 had the least chance of success — I — I 
— mean whether you, sir, would ever entertain the idea of 
me as a suitor for. your daughter’s hand. I may as well 
say at once that my position in London is by no means a 
bad one. Without vanity, 1 can say that my name is well 
known, and that I am making a respectable income with 
literary work, also 1 have a fixed income as sub-editor of 
4 The Current Reader;’ and, besides this, I possess three 
hundred a year of my own. But, of course, when all is 
said, I know 1 have not enough money to make my suit in 
any way — ” 

Poor Hoel! He had never before felt so small and in- 
significant. The riches of Kestell of Grey stone oppressed 
him. He made another noble effort, however. 

44 Still, sir, my motive being, I assure you, one purely of 
personal love and admiration for your daughter, I only ask 
to be allowed to try my fate. As for money, 1 do not want 
any. I could keep my wife in an honorable position, and. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 131 

if not rich, yet the society into which I should introduce 
her is of the best. ” 

44 In short, you are in love with Elva,” said Mr. Kes- 
tell, slowly bringing down his glass and smiling so kindly 
that Hoel was captivated. 

64 Yes, sir, that is the long and short of it.” 

46 Have you mentioned the subject to her?” 

44 This morning I tried to find out if I was not altogether 
distasteful to her, and she has given me leave to speak to 
you. Indeed, sir, if I might only have a chance, I could 
at least prove how deep was the feeling which prompted 
me to try, even though with so little hope of success, and 
yet—” 

Hoel lifted his handsome face, in which so many good 
feelings were painted, and at this moment he was nearer 
being a great character than ever before. 

Mr. Kestell rose from his seat, and walked a few paces 
with his head bent down and his arms behind him. It was 
a moment of intense anxiety for Hoel, whose pride could 
seldom brook long suspense. He imagined the courteous 
refusal of the rich man and his own shy pride. Then he 
tried to frame his answer. In fact, in those few moments 
he lived through a sharp experience of doubt. 

Mr. Kestell paused suddenly, and Hoel, who had risen 
respectfully, was surprised at the gentle voice in which the 
old man said: 

44 Draw your chair near the fire, and let us talk this 
matter over, Mr. Fenner. We have seen but little of each 
other; but I have heard much about you. Never mind 
how. Everything I have heard is in your favor; and if 
you can win Elva's love I know my child will become the 
wife of an English gentleman. As to her, I must leave 
her free. Perhaps I am too partial; but it seems to me 
that the man who wins her will win a true, generous heart, 
and a girl who will be an honor to any home. Where 
she loves she trusts implicitly; but I hope — that is, perhaps, 
my most earnest wish— that my dear child may never be 
disappointed or deceived by the man she loves.” 

Hoel was much touched, and even more surprised, at the 
kindness shown to him; moreover, his vanity was — human 
nature being easily influenced — in spite of himself, a good 
deal called forth by hearing, unexpectedly, that Mr. Kes- 
tell had made private inquiries as to his character, and that 


132 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


the result had been eminently to his advantage. Pew men 
could have heard such praise without having their own good 
opinion of themselves slightly enhanced. The confirmation 
of his own unexpressed opinion was most gratifying. 

“ But, Mr. Kestell, much as I feel your extreme kind- 
ness, I must not let you overlook the fact of — my very in- 
adequate means ?” 

Mr. Kestell waved his hand very slightly. 

“ I do not undervalue money, Mr. Fenner; but experi- 
ence has shown me, or rather shows every human being, 
that we can not make the happiness of those we love best 
by money only. There may, even, be much advantage in 
poverty; but 1 do not wish my daughters to be married for 
their fortune. On their marriage I shall meet the fortune 
of their husbands with an equal amount — nothing more. 
When I die I shall leave everything to my wife for her life; 
then no one will accuse me of having in any way made my 
children the objects of envy or temptation to the avari- 
cious. At my wife’s death everything will be divided equally 
between my two daughters, save for a few legacies. You 
see, I am perfectly open with you.” 

Hoel seized Mr. Kestell’s hand, and wrung it warmly. 

“ You have taken a weight off my mind, sir. I was 
afraid of being looked upon as a fortune-hunter. Your 
words have shown me that you did not think this, or you 
would not have spoken as you did.” 

Mr. Kestell smiled. 

“ Then your mind is at rest, and you may try your luck 
with an easy conscience. In these days parents do not have 
much control over their children. I do not complain. I 
wish them to be quite unfettered; but I do wish you suc- 
cess, Mr. Fenner, with all my heart.” 

“ Then 1 shall succeed,” said Hoel, feeling almost an- 
noyed that he had passed through such unnecessary anxiety. 

“ And if you succeed, I venture to predict that you and 
Elva will not have to suffer more than is good for young 
people from limited means. I was told about your uncle, 
Mr. Mellish Fenner’s intentions.” 

“ I never even give my uncle’s fortune a thought, sir,” 
said Hoel, grandly. “ He is very peculiar in many ways. 
He may even marry. Anyhow, I am not the man to sigh 
after or count upon dead men’s shoes. I would rather 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


133 


begin married life in furnished lodgings than borrow on 
expectations. ” 

“ Whatever happens,” answered Mr. Kestell, after a 
pause, “ you will believe I did the best 1 could for you, 1 
hope. Elva must learn to know you. I doubt if, with 
her, there is such a thing as love at first sight. Yet, much 
as I have studied her, 1 never can quite know how she will 
act. Perhaps my girls have been allowed to go their own 
way too much; but my dear wife has never been strong, 
and she has always been my first thought. Her daughters 
have learned that they must give in to her wishes. I did 
require that of them; nothing else — nothing else.” 

The affection which Hoel had never felt for his uncle 
since the “ if ” had been uttered, seemed to spring up in 
his heart for Elva's father. 

“ And I am sure, sir, that is why Miss Kestell feels your 
love doubly. I have never known a father, but if — if I 
have the happiness of becoming one of your family, may I 
say at once that you will never find me wanting in love and 
respect.” 

“ Thank you,” said Mr. Kestell, in a low and much- 
moved voice. 66 1 can not tell you how deeply I feel your 
words. Go on and prosper. But now, before going into 
the drawing-room, let me hear what you wish to say about 
Jesse Vicary.” 

Hoel was at once himself again, feeling decidedly small 
at suddenly remembering that Vicary and his affairs had 
entirely gone out of his head during the previous conversa- 
tion, and that had Mr. Kestell not referred to the subject 
himself, he — Hoel — might have gone into the drawing- 
room without a thought of the man whom he meant to 
raise from his unworthy surroundings. He hid his forget- 
fulness as best he could, though to the practiced eye of Mr. 
Kestell it was visible enough. 

“ Exactly so. I forget if you know how I became ac- 
quainted with this young Vicary. He came to our office 
hoping to get a little work. We get so many similar ap- 
plications, that you can imagine we have one answer always 
ready. Vicary received it; but, as I happened to inter- 
view him that day, something in the man himself struck 
me as remarkable. I can hardly define what it is. He is 
clever, certainly; but not cleverer than many literary aspir- 
auts we see often; and yet there is something about him 


134 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOSE. 


which at once marks him out from the ordinary clever 
young man who wishes to rise. He is an excellent fellow 
into the bargain; rather given to preaching, I fancy, if one 
knew the ins and outs of his leisure moments. But all 
this — what shall I call it? — this too palpable earnestness, is 
merely on the surface; at the bottom he is very superior in 
every way. In short, feeling drawn to him, I procured him 
a little work, which he brought to us so extremely well 
done, and so full of originality of treatment, that our 
editor, Mr. Carpell, of his own accord, suggested to me to 
try him in our office. We have to employ several writers 
whose duties are rather varied, aiid who must be a good 
deal more than men-machines. Vicary will suit us excel- 
lently; and if he proves that his powers are beyond this 
post, we can advance him; if not, even this position which 
I am at liberty to offer him will be far more congenial to 
him than the one he now fills. ” 

“ The one I found for him, you mean?” 

“ Yes, he has been perfectly honest and straightforward 
with me. He told me the outline of his life, and all you 
have done for him and his sister; and he was glad that I 
should first mention this subject to you, though he consid- 
ers that you can not now care how he earns his living, as 
long as he in no way disappoints you. I suppose he has 
really risen by his own good conduct, though without you 
he would never have had the chance. ” 

Hoel paused, thinking that he had put the state of the 
case excellently well. He was not prepared for the result. 

“ 1 appreciate your kindness, Fenner; indeed, it only 
serves to raise my opinion of you. But in this case I think 
1 am the best judge. Believe an old man, and desist from 
trying to draw Vicary away from his present employment 
which my interest procured for him. 1 have seen many 
men, and I know the world pretty well at my age; and 1 
can assure you that you will only do Vicary an injury by 
suggesting this move to him; you will unsettle him, and in 
the future he will look back with regret when he recognizes 
that this step was his ruin.” 

Hoel was entirely surprised; but he at once felt that Mr. 
Kestell must be mistaken, and did not really understand 
the nature of the offer. 

“ 1 assure you, I am only offering Vicary a much better 
position than he leaves; even if we did not require his serv- 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


135 


ices in the future, which is most unlikely, for we are very 
careful whom we choose, and our workers seldom leave us, 
yet the very fact of his having worked in our office would 
assure him a good post elsewhere. Where he is now he 
may stay till he dies, and unless he works very hard at sup- 
plementary jobs, he can not hope to achieve even a small 
success. ” 

“ But it is certain; and you literary men, accustomed to 
a kind of lottery life, hardly understand enough the great 
superiority of certain work over uncertain.” 

fc< But this is very certain work, sir,” said Hoel; and 
then, suddenly remembering it was hardly his place to 
argue with his possible father-in-law, he paused. 

“I may be mistaken, of course. We old people are 
sometimes prejudiced; if so, forgive me, Fenner. In any 
case, I can not feel that I am justified in giving my con- 
sent. Now shall we go into the drawing-room? You may 
tell Elva all I said, but do not let my words bind her in 
any way.” 

Hoel rose; but before they reached the door, he made 
one more effort, if, perhaps, a feeble one, in the interest 
of Yicary. 

“ Then you will not recommend Jesse Yicary to accept 
our offer?” 

“ No, I shall not recommend it. I shall, in fact, refuse 
my consent.” 

Then Ml*. Kestell opened the drawing-room doQr, and 
Hoel saw Elva standing near the window, looking like a 
beautiful embodiment of life, and Yicary and his affairs 
faded from his mind. 


CHAPTER XV. 
jesse’s benefactor. 

“ Dear Vicary,— I have had a talk with Mr. Kestell 
about the offer we made you. I am afraid he does not look 
very favorably upon it; but you will, of course, come and 
talk to him about it. I shall, in all probability, be coming 
to stay at Rushbrook House next Saturday, so we can dis- 
cuss it again; and I hope I shall then get your final answer. 
We can quite well wait till then. I am off the first thing 


136 KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 

to-morrow, so Miss Heaton has promised to let you have 
this some time in the morning. 

“ Yours, truly, Hoel Fenner. ” 

Jesse Vicary was lying out upon the moors reading this 
note which a lad from the rectory had given him, glad not 
to have to walk the extra mile on to the farm, but to spend 
the time in pastime of his own choosing. 

Jesse had been very busy thinking of the future as he lay 
there, and the note had not made thinking less necessary; 
and yet, in spite of it, he was conscious of intense happiness 
because of the warmth and of the beauty of his beloved 
moors. 

Who would not have felt happy in this spot? Noonday 
had come upon the great moor with its yellow paths and 
its delicious scented heather and gorse? Jesse could have 
accurately told you the time, and so, for the matter of 
that, could any person of average intellect, for the grazing 
cattle hardly threw a shadow upon the green grass in the 
upland meadows, while everything was bathed in a faint 
haze of heat. All at once the perfect peace was broken by 
the jarring scream of a pheasant in a neighboring copse, 
and a few cocks crew from one of the squatter cottages 
on the moor; but these sounds almost seemed to enhance 
the eloquent silence of Nature. Jesse’s eyes, which had 
been fixed on the distance, slowly tiaveled nearer home. 
Just in front of him rose a clump of withered black gorse 
stalks, and near to it was a solitary stunted bracken, whose 
yellow fronds slightly quivered when the light wind swept 
slowly round the hill-side. 

“ There are solitary beings in nature,” mused Jesse. 
He was in a very contemplative mood; a mood which is the 
perfection of laziness of body and activity of thought. 
“ That withered bracken stalk, how did it get here, and 
that dead gorse? They look as if they meant to protest 
against the abundant perkiness of their fellow-creatures. 
I suppose there is a certain pleasure in protesting, but one 
is apt to get conceited over it. When Mr. Fenner suggest- 
ed my leaving my present quarters, I expect I felt as that 
bracken feels, or ought to feel. Mr. Fenner has been very 
kind; I thought he could not quite so easily win over Mr. 
Kestell. I suppose it is hard to give up one’s own way or 
one’s own prejudices. He would prefer my staying where 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


137 


1 am; but why? I do not ask him lor anything. No, 
there are times when a man’s gratitude may interfere with 
the higher powers God gives him to cultivate. I owe him 
much, but not that. 1 will accept this opening. Symee 
must have a home, and she shall. If I might go out into 
the big world, to Australia, or somewhere, where men 
make money, I know I could succeed; but then Symee 
would have no home; and yet I— I might grow rich, and 
come back with something to offer to a woman. But no — 
all these are visions; but, anyhow, this offer us fact, and 
Mr. Kestell can not prevent my accepting it.” 

Then Jesse fell into a deeper dream. This time it was 
wordless; the vision that floated before him shaped itself 
into a good and beautiful woman; and though Dante could 
give words to his passionate homage, there have been many 
who, though dumb and tongue-tied, have yet rendered the 
same worship at a woman’s pure shrine. 

He did not- now worry himself about this happy time of 
idleness. He knew it was good for him, and that he would 
be able to work with more courage from being able now to 
drink to the full the cup of nectar which Nature presents 
to those who will stop and slake their thirst. As he lay 
there, his fingers touched even the withered bents of grass 
with reverence, and his eyes, wandering slowly from foot 
to summit of those very tall fir-trees in the near fore- 
ground, noted a hundred particulars which true lovers 
only see. 

Hoel Fenner, with all his literary polish, his exquisite 
taste, his keen sense of fitness, might have sat here and 
seen nothing of Nature’s true beauty, and would have de- 
rived no other piece of wisdom from what he saw further 
than to assure the next person he spoke to that Rushbrook 
was a very pretty neighborhood. 

But Nature, who can do so much for her worshipers, has 
also a limited power. She insists on having an unruffled 
surface to mirror herself on when she herself is unruffled, 
and expects passion in other hearts when she herself is 
rocked by tempests. Do not expect her sympathy, for be- 
tween her and human hearts there is a great gulf fixed. 

Jesse found out this to-day, for he knew he must at last 
bestir himself. Nature would do no more for him than 
give him hope. He knew that he must have an interview 
with Mr. Kestell, and that Symee would be looking out for 


138 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


him; so he started up, stretched himself with blissful con- 
tentment, and then went down the moor toward St. John’s 
Church, on his way to Rushbrook House. 

Here he suddenly encountered George Guthrie, who could 
often be found apparently wandering with no object; but 
those who saw this did not understand George Guthrie. He 
made a dart at Vicary, and greeted him warmly. 

44 Just the man 1 wanted to see. How are you? Enjoy- 
ing all this sunshine. I’ve escaped from my cousin, be- 
cause she has a meeting of good ladies to-day, and when 
they entered the hall some of them looked at me as if I 
were the old gentleman himself. I asked what the meet- 
ing was about, and my cousin looked upward and showed 
the whites of her eyes and said: 4 T. A. P. S.’ 4 Taps?’ I 

said. 6 No,’ she said, 4 Training of the Adult Poor So- 
ciety.’ Good heavens! Vicary, fancy how I trembled as 
more Taps flowed in! I felt I was a poor adult, and I 
didn’t know what might happen to me. They each carried 
a bag, and were shown into the dining-room and sat sol- 
emnly round the table on high-backed chairs. I looked in 
through the window, because the whole thing seemed so 
mysterious to me. My cousin says it is a protest against 
Socialism. Now I fancy if they asked you to come and 
speak to them, you could tell them a little about the poor 
adults. Eh, Vicary? But it amuses the ladies, you know. 
I hear they are very sad because Miss Amice Kestell won’t 
join them. They shook their heads off nearly, and de- 
clared she had Red Ideas. But all this is by the way. I 
want to know how little ’Liza is getting on. Her old 
grandmother was talking to me about her only yesterday. 
I said that I would tell you to call, if you would be so 
kind.” 

44 Indeed, 1 will,” said Jesse, smiling, for it was impossi- 
ble not to smile at Mr. Guthrie’s remarks. 

44 ’Liza speaks of you as if you were the Juggernaut be- 
fore whom she ought to throw herself down. By the way, 
an interesting fact turned up during our conversation. 
Old Mrs. Joyce says she remembers your grandmother 
coming to her when she, old Mrs. Vicary, first moved on 
to the Beacon. It was to borrow soap, I think; but the 
very fact seemed to raise her into another sphere. 4 Mr. 
Vicary is a very fine gentleman now,’ she said, 4 but bis 
grandmother once came, etc.’ She doesn’t think half so 


IvESTELL OF GREYSTONTE. 


139 


much of me because she says, 4 you weren't from these 
parts, sir, and one can not ever be sure of them as are 
stranger-born, though you're better than most.' Good 
gracious, Vicary, fancy any one trying to train the adult 
poor; where will they end? I should like to see my cousin 
in a cottage for a week. I shall set up a society of Taps; 
put ricl^ instead of poor, and get the poor to form the 
committee." 

“ My sister tells me that Miss Amice does a great work 
among the squatters in the forest," said Jesse. 

“ Well, yes, they look upon her as a being from another 
world; and, to say the truth, so do 1. Here, Vicary, this 
way, please; I see Miss Heaton returning from Court Gar- 
den, so the Taps are over. Miss Heaton thinks the poor 
ought to be kept in their places, and says I am too free 
with them. Now I think I can slink home up by the 
Pools; by dinner-time my cousin will have forgotten the 
Taps, and I shall be able to look her in the face again. 
Good-bye, and don't forget to go and see 'Liza's grand- 
mother, and don't make out that she's overworked, be- 
cause they would send for her at once home. Between 
you, me, and the door-post, the adult poor do want train- 
ing nearly as much as the rich; their feelings are so ten- 
der. They are all heart or none." 

As Jesse proceeded toward Eushbrook House, Mr. 
Guthrie's words made him think of his own early history. 
He would certainly go and see Mrs. Joyce, for now that he 
was a man, the subject interested him; before, he had 
never cared much to know more than the bare fact that 
his mother had died at his birth, and his grandmother soon 
afterward; that they had come from beyond the great ridge 
of forest which seemed to him, when a boy, to be the 
boundary of the world; and that only two months before 
his birth had the old grandmother and her daughter moved 
to a house on the Beacon. Positively, this was all he knew. 
He had never even before now heard his grandmother 
talked of by name, for 'Liza's grandmother had been liv- 
ing many years away from Eushbrook, and had only lately 
come back to her son's cottage. Perhaps only lately had 
Jesse fully grown into the feeling of love of his own order; 
only lately had he fully realized that, however much he 
himself might rise, yet his heart was now touched by the 
true feeling of humanity which, if it is not stifled in the 


140 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


presence of the rich, yet only grows to its full perfection 
among the poor. Symee, he knew, had no such sympa- 
thies, and he did not blame her. He had won his own free** 
dom by work, and could enjoy it in any direction he liked; 
she was still timidly groping after that sense of freedom 
which is not really free, but fettered by custom. 

Jesse had won his victory by days and nights of work; a 
work which could not be represented by any visible result, 
for it was spiritual labor in a spiritual kingdom. 

This was the state of his mind when he reached the 
house, where his thoughts would center, he knew, now for 
many a year. He was conscious that he looked about him, 
hoping to see Amice Kestell; and he was conscious of dis- 
appointment when no one appeared; but in another mo- 
ment Symee was with him in the avenue, and then his 
great brotherly love was all with her. 

Symee’s soft, gentle face was decidedly troubled, and as 
she clasped his arm after the first greeting, he knew some- 
thing was the matter with her. 

“You are late, Jesse dear. I have been looking out 
for you for some time. Mr. Kestell is in this afternoon, 
and wants to see you in ten minutes; and then I have got 
leave to walk with you till six o’clock.” 

“ That’s right. But what’s the matter, child?” 

He often called her child because, compared with him, 
Symee was so young and weak, even though they were twins. 

“ Don’t let’s talk about it now. Tell me, how have you 
enjoyed your walk?” 

“ It seems to give me courage in every pore. I only 
wish — But I’ll keep all that till I’ve spoken to Mr. 
Kestell.” 

“Mr. Hoel Fenner was here on Sunday, and I heard 
Miss Elva say he was coming again. You may fancy how 
I looked at him, Jesse — because he had been so good 
to you.” 

“ Yes, he has been very kind, and 1 hope we may see 
more of each other.” 

“ Miss Elva was so strange and thoughtful when he had 
been, I can’t help fancying — ” 

Jesse suddenly had the same idea, but would not allow 
his sister to say it; he was naturally unwilling to hear the 
secrets of others. 

“ That’s not our business, is it, Symee? Now tell me 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 141 

how you are. What makes you pale? — and you look as if 
you had been crying.” 

44 I had one of my bad headaches yesterday, and Miss 
Amice was away, so I couldn't ask her to cure it. Fancy, 
Jesse, she actually stayed up all night in a dirty cottage, 
with some old woman who is very ill!” 

Jesse's heart gave a leap. He had often heard before of 
Amice's kind actions; but only now did they seem to affect 
him personally. 

44 Why do you speak as if it was very dreadful, Symee? 
You would do as much.” 

Symee shook her head. 

44 No; I don't like dirt and poor people. I know it's 
horrid of me, Jesse, and I would do anything to please you, 
you know; but everybody can't like the same thing. Miss 
Elva can't bear poor people either.” 

Jesse was penitent at once. He often had to pull him- 
self up for harsh judgment. 

64 Well, Symee, 1 promise you a very, very clean little 
home, even if we have to do with few luxuries. You don't 
mind work, I know.” 

Symee blushed and hesitated, then finally added: 

44 It's time now, Jesse, for you to go and see Mr. Kes- 
tell; and, dear Jesse, don't be rash.” 

4 4 Rash? — of course not. I'm not given to being rash, you 
silly child. By the way, Symee, if ever Miss Amice wants 
anything done for her in London, you must say 1 would be 
only too glad to go anywhere for her. I don't mean shop- 
ping,” he added, laughing; 44 but if she wants things for 
her poor people, or — ” 

44 I'll tell her; but now, Jesse, do go, and I'll be quite 
ready by the bridge when you come out.” 

Jesse tried not to feel annoyed by Symee's manner. 
Much as he loved her, sometimes her want of strength 
jarred against him; but the feeling was only momentary, 
as he said to himself, 44 1 have enough given me for both. 
I believe it is the evil effect of having always to obey. 
There is nothing like being one's own master to teach one 
firmness. But she will soon learn when we live together.” 

The afternoon had slightly clouded over; the great brill- 
iancy was gone; for what looked like thunder-clouds were 
rising from a long, straight bank above the horizon. Pile 
upon pile of hard round masses unfolded themselves with a 


142 


KESTELL OF GEEYSTOKE. 


majestic sweep which foreboded a storm. “ But not just 
at present,” thought Jesse, as the butler opened the door 
of Mr. Kestell’s study and announced: 

“ Mr. Jesse Vicary. ” 

Mr. Kestell was seated at his writing-table, and rose at 
once to greet him. So doing, his back was turned to the 
light, while Jesse stood in full view. The wavy chestnut 
hair, the frank, yet rather thoughtful eyes, the firm mouth 
— firm, though gentle — and the well-built, strong figure of 
the young fellow contrasted in every respect with that of 
his benefactor. 

“Good-afternoon, Jesse,” said Mr. Kestell. “I am 
glad you have come; I was expecting you. Sit down and 
— I think you will soon hear reason.” 

Jesse sat down; but even this action seemed almost done 
under protest. He felt this was an important moment of 
his life, and he tried to prepare himself for meeting it. He 
would have preferred standing up and saying his say out 
boldly and firmly; but custom and courtesy often prevent 
spontaneous speech and action. 

“ I suppose you mean, sir — that is, I think you refer to 
Mr. Hoel Fenner’s offer. I received a note from him at 
noon. He wrote it last night.” 

“ After seeing me, 1 suppose. He spoke very kindly 
about you. I was, in fact, much gratified by his opinion 
of you; and he made an offer which I know many an inex- 
perienced young man would have accepted without consid- 
eration. But happily, Vicary, you have an older head to 
think for you. I proved to Mr. Fenner, 1 think, that it 
would be most imprudent to throw yourself out of your 
present position on the chance of future — fame, which, as 
one knows if one has lived as long as I have, is often a 
will-o’-the-wisp. I am not at all surprised, Vicary, at your 
being taken with the idea; but I have enough confidence in 
you to believe that you will not give in to this desire for 
change.” 

“ It is no desire for change,” said Jesse, very slowly. 
“ I have long wished for this sort of work, and I have spent 
many hours in trying to qualify myself for some such em- 
ployment. ” 

“ That is what all young men think. My dear Vicary, 
be advised, do not throw away certainty; do not oblige me 
to think less well of you.” 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


143 


Mr. KestelFs tone had not altered in the least; if he 
were pleading with Jesse, it was certainly not in the heat 
of the moment, for his words seemed very carefully chosen 
and weighed. Jesse, on the contrary, having previously 
made up his mind to be perfectly calm, was fast losing this 
state of feeling; he pushed his chair back and stood up, 
without being aware of his change of position, so much was 
his mind excited. 

Indeed, indeed, Mr. Kestell, you do not understand,” 
he said, with deep earnestness. “ 1 do value your good 
opinion, perhaps more than anything else; at all events, 
more than the opinion of any one else. Have I not given 
you proofs of it again and again? You have done much, 
very much for me and Symee, and I am deeply grateful; 
but now 1 am a man, 1 have fought out many a battle 
alone, and at such times 1 have had no one to look to but 
myself and God. I don't wish to boast, but only to say 
that such things make one able to stand alone. I knew 
that from the time I first went to school I have had to look 
my position in the face. You saved me from a terrible 
fate, the fate of a work-house boy, and to my dying day I 
shall remember this. And it was even more that you did 
for Symee. Thank God, she is now fit to stand alone; and 
here she has learned nothing but good. Such things as 
these can not be forgotten by any man who has a heart or 
a spark of gratitude in his nature; but yet, in spite of all 
this, Mr. Kestell, I feel that 1 am not any longer responsi- 
ble to man for my actions, but to God. He has most un- 
expectedly opened this path for me; if there are objections 
— and every position has its objections — yet I will overcome 
them. You forget that it lias also many advantages, and 
that if I refuse this offer, I may never in all my life get 
such another. If it were only for my own ambition, then, 
perhaps, I should believe 1 was mistaken; but it is for 
Symee’s sake. Good as you have been to her, yet she de- 
serves a home of her own, and if I can procure it for her, 
she shall have it.” 

“ Symee will never wish to ruin your prospects; 1 be- 
lieve she has too much good sense for that. ” 

Mr. Kestell's voice was losing its gentleness; there was 
a slight increase of warmth in it, as if for a moment he 
was off his guard. 


144 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


44 Symee will certainly believe in my love for her. She 
will not oppose my wishes,” said Jesse, firmly. He saw 
that nothing would now turn Mr. Kestell, and that the 
whole responsibility of the change must be taken on his 
own shoulders. Jesse was prepared to do this. 

For a moment the old man was silent. He took up a 
paper-cutter and put it down again sharply. At last he, 
too, rose from his chair. 

44 Jesse, whatever rash thing you may choose to do, I 
can not allow your sister to ruin her prospects. If you 
wish to retain my — my good opinion, you must stay where 
you are now, otherwise you must take the consequences for 
yourself. 1 shall also insist on Symee having fair notice 
and perfect freedom of action, and I have not the least 
doubt that she will see the foolishness of your proposed 
change.” 

44 You c^n not part us against our will, sir,” said Jesse, 
slowly, while the hot blood mounted to his cheeks. 44 If I 
accept this post, I shall ask Symee to come and live with 
me, and she will come.” 

44 1 think 1 can judge for her, and I trust Symee will be 
guided by wise counsels.” 

44 Thank you, sir, for what you have done for her; but I 
am her brother, her only relation, and 1 shall study her 
happiness, even if she is too gentle and too much influenced 
to choose for herself. ” 

It was now Mr. Kestell’s turn to be annoyed. 

44 Then I can but say my last word, Vicary. 1 entirely 
disapprove of your conduct, and I refuse my consent to 
your giving up your present j>osition, or to luring away 
your sister from a safe home. If you insist, I shall wash my 
hands of both of you, and I think the world will judge be- 
tween us; but 1 hope you will not in the future talk any 
nonsense about gratitude.” 

Never had Jesse seen his benefactor look as he now did, 
or heard him speak in such a stern manner. His face had 
changed — a deadly pallor overspread his features, his hands 
shook visibly. 

44 Is that your last word?” said Jesse, going toward the 
door, his whole spirit rebelling against the injustice of the 
man whom he had looked upon as nearly perfect. 

44 Yes; but — ” a sudden change took place in Mr. Kes- 
telFs manner, and he held out his hand. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


145 

“ Come, Vicary, don’t go away in anger; think better of 
this, and leave well alone. ” 

Jesse did not see the outstretched hand, so entirely ab- 
sorbed was he in the question at issue. 

“ I can not, sir; in this case I must judge for myself, 
and I deny to any man the right of judging for me.” 

“ You refuse to be guided?” 

“ I do; I shall accept the offer. ” 

“ For yourself, perhaps; but Symee will remain here.” 

“ Not of her own free choice.” 

“ Yes, of her own free choice.” 

Jesse had reached the door; his anger, that had been for 
one moment modified, rose again. 

“ I must ask her myself, sir, and this question shall be 
decided between us. 1 can allow no third person to 
come in.” 

“ I leave you both free, perfectly free; but remember, if 
once you take your sister away, from that day my doors are 
closed against you both.' I will not speak of ingratitude; 
your own consciences are best able to judge your conduct.” 

Perhaps there is no accusation which an honest man finds 
more galling to bear than that of ingratitude. It acted so 
powerfully with Jesse that, without another word, he left 
the room, mechanically crossed the hall, and only woke up 
to the consciousness of where he was when he saw his sister 
waiting for him on the bridge. Her face was very pale, 
and she showed plainly that she was well aware of the drift 
of the conversation Jesse had been having. One look at 
his strangely moved countenance revealed much more to 
her, and when he said: 

44 Come, Symee, don’t let us discuss anything yet; let us 
get into a quiet place where no one will see us,” she took 
his arm and followed in silence. 

It spoke volumes for Jesse’s self-control that he imposed 
on himself this waiting time, for fear of saying something 
he would regret. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

NOT QUITE CLEAR. 

How long they walked in silence, neither of them 
reckoned. Symee could hardly keep up with her brother’s 
strides, and as he was making his way straight up across 


146 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


country toward the Beacon,, she was at last forced to 
pause. 

“ Jesse/’ she said, for she was walking behind him, 
“ wait a moment. 1 can not walk as quickly as you do. ” 

The very appeal to his strength conquered the fierce 
spirit within that was urging him on. In a moment he 
paused, and, going back a few paces, sat down on a heap 
of fir poles stacked ready for next season’s hops. 

“ My poor Symee, I forgot that 1 was walking as if for 
a wager/ 7 he said, smiling, and drawing her very tenderly 
toward him. “ Lean against me, dear; and now let’s talk 
this matter out — as well here as anywhere else. I suppose 
you can still spare a few minutes before you go back to 
Rushbrook House. Presently 1 shall climb up to the Bea- 
con, and go and see ’Liza’s grandmother. Do you know 
what I proposed to Mr. Kestell?” 

“No — yes; you mean about Mr. Hoel Fenner’s offer? 
Oh, Jesse, don’t accept it.” 

“ Then Mr. Kestell has been talking about it to you,” 
said Jesse, quickly. 

“ Yes, he was so kind; but he showed me ho\t very, very 
imprudent it would be of you to leave the firm. Of course 
you won’t do it, Jesse dear.” 

“ Yes, I shall do it. J have not made up my mind 
lightly, and I can see no reason to alter. That is not the 
point, Symee — ” 

“ Oh, but it is. Jesse, please, please be advised. You 
are so hasty, so determined when you once set your mind 
upon anything. Of course you couldn’t think of going 
against Mr. Kestell. It would be impossible. Your pres- 
ent position is so safe; the other is so uncertain.” 

Jesse made a little movement of impatience, which had 
the effect of shaking Symee and making her more troubled 
and nervous. 

“ Symee, do try to judge for yourself, and not repeat all 
Mr. Kestell’s sentiments. Surely 1 must be a good judge. 
Have I been so rash all my life that now this independent 
action is considered preposterous? You know it is not so. 

I can judge, and I will accept this offer, this splendid offer, 
and the results will prove whether or not I have been rash. 
No; that’s not the point; but it is this: Will you come and 
live with me, with the certainty, moral certainty, if not 
demonstrable certainty, that I can offer you a home without 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 


147 


fear of consequences? Symee, haven’t we all our lives hoped 
for this and wished for this? Your presence will make all the 
difference to my life, and I think I can make you happy. 
We must be happy when we shall have honest work and each 
other. Look here, Symee, put away all arguments, which 
you can not be expected to understand, and trust your 
future into my hands. I can, 1 will make it a happy one. 99 

“ Jesse, I don’t know what to say. You will misunder- 
stand me; but, dear, dear Jesse, give it up, I do beseech 
you. ” 

“ Give what up?” 

“ This offer of Mr. Fenner. I can not come and live 
with you; it would only be helping you on to ruin. Keep 
in the old path, Jesse. What can I do to make you be- 
lieve it?” 

“ Nonsense, Symee. Do you mean to say that you pre- 
fer staying here, kindly treated, but yet a servant, when 
you might be free? You might be your own mistress, and 
work for both of us, and you know it would make all the 
difference in the world to me. Haven’t 1 been making 
this plan for you ever since I was a school-boy; and now, 
and now — ” 

Jesse was so much moved that he stood up and crossed 
his arms while the excitement he felt showed itself in every 
feature of his face. 

Symee dared not look up at him; only she covered her 
face with her hands, and sobbed audibly. 

“ Don’t, don’t say all that, Jesse. Haven’t I wished for 
it as much as you? But how can I go against my con- 
science, and help to spoil your life? I can’t — I can’t.” 

46 Do you mean to say, Symee, that my words, my strong 
conviction, have no influence over you?” 

“You know they have, Jesse. I would do anything for 
you, except things that would hurt you.” 

Jesse impatiently stamped his foot. 

46 You have been overpersuaded, Symee. You have been 
worked upon by Mr. Kestell. 1 have to thank him for 
this.” 

“ No, no, it is my own idea. I am sure it is right. I 
saw it plainly directly Mr. Kestell explained it to me.” 

Symee had risen, looking the picure of misery. She 
tried to put her two hands round Jesse’s arm, but he was 
too much hurt to bear her touch. Suddenly, however, a 


148 


KESTELL OF GEEYSTONE. 


fiercer spirit swept over him; he, who was usually as gentle 
as a woman, now fiercely grasped his sister’s arm. 

“ Symee, this is the last time I ask you. You don’t 
know what you are doing. You are depriving me of the 
only joy that can enter my life. You are forcing me to 
give up the idea of home, life, and — ” 

“ You will thank me some day,” sobbed Symee, who 
felt now that she was a martyr to the best cause. Though 
her heart was torn, yet her spirit was strong. She believed 
she was saving Jesse in spite of himself. 

Jesse let go his sister’s arm. He had felt her shrinking 
away from his touch, and he could not bear it; but though 
feeling doubly angry with her, and chiefly with Mr. Kes- 
tell, who had so well influenced her, he yet felt angry, too, 
with himself for having given way to this fierce anger be- 
fore a weak, delicate woman. 

“ Then we can say no more about the subject. You had 
better go back now, Symee; and 1 am going up on to the 
Beacon.” 

“ And you will give it up, then — this, this offer of Mr. 
Fenner?” she said, timidly. 

“ No, I will not,” was Jesse’s fierce answer as he strode 
away. It seemed more than he could bear just now to have 
his sister turning against him, for he had expected her at 
least to see with his eyes. 

Still, even this obstacle did not move him. The more 
this senseless opposition met him, the more he was deter- 
mined to succeed in spite of it. 

As he walked up the hill he composed the letter of ac- 
ceptance; and though all pleasure bad gone out of the 
transaction, still Jesse believed, deep down in his heart, 
that he would succeed, and in a short time he would be 
able to ask Symee to come to him without even the shadow 
of a fear of non-success. 

Jesse had not forgotten his promise to Mr. Guthrie of 
visiting ’Liza’s grandmother, and he was now bent on this 
errand. The cottage stood on the edge of the Beacon 
plateau, and was quite away from the principal cluster of 
cottages that constituted the village of Bushbrook Beacon. 
The cottage itself was a picturesque little place, with roses 
clustering over a wooden porch; though these seemed to be 
the only luxuries about the place. As Jesse walked up. 


XESTELL OF OBEY STONE. 


149 


Caleb Joyce, the farm lad, was just entering, and his 
mother, in her kitchen, was preparing an evening meal. 

“You be Mr. Vicary,” said Caleb, grinning. 44 ’Liza 
told us you were in these parts. ” 

By this time Jesse had put away his own thoughts, and 
soon made the family feel quite at their ease; for though 
he appeared a fine gentleman to them, yet the simple, 
hearty manner which made friends for Jesse wherever he 
went soon unloosed the tongues, and the joy of hearing of 
’Liza assured him a very warm welcome. 

44 Grandmother’s in the parlor,” said Mrs. Joyce, pres- 
ently. 44 The children do racket so, we let her have that 
room. Mr. Guthrie was talking to her of you last week, 
and she has set her heart on seeing you. She’s a great 
sufferer with the rheumatics is grannie; but she’s a very 
contented body; and when she’s not suffering she likes to 
have the children about.” 

These poor people, with their narrow interests, and nar- 
rower lives, seemed to have a calming influence on Jesse; 
and when he was seated by the old lady, whose hands and 
feet were all crippled with that terrible rheumatic affection 
so common to the poor, he almost forgot the annoyance 
he had lately felt, or, at least, he put it away from him for 
the moment. 

44 Well, that is kind of you, sir,” said old Mrs. Joyce, 
who, in spite of her helpless condition, was bright and 
cheery, and looked shrewd and kind-hearted. 44 Mr. 
Guthrie — well, he is a kind gentleman; he often comes and 
sees me; and he and 1 fell to talking about you the other 
day. 4 Mrs. Joyce,’ says he, 4 young Mr. Yicary is staying 
at the Home Farm, and I’ll tell him to come and see you.’ 
You be a fine gentleman now, sir. But I was telling Mr, 
Guthrie I could remember your grandmother well.” 

Jesse laughed. 

44 I’m not much of a fine gentleman, Mrs. Joyce. 1 
think ’Liza could tell you that I’m a hard-working man, 
and that you live in a palace compared to our poky and 
dirty houses in Golden Sparrow Street.” 

44 Yes, yes, ’.Liza speaks mighty well of you, sir. She’s 
a good scholard, and writes fine letters; but not much 
good it’s done her, except for writing to us. She was bent 
upon going to London, but 1 notice now she’s bent upon 
coming home, though she wouldn’t say so for the life of 


150 


KESTELL OE G KEY STONE. 


her. We all have to learn by experience. That's what 1 
tell Mr. Guthrie when he comes and talks so kindly, and 
makes me laugh with his funny sayings. It's only them 
as have a free conscience as can be light-hearted. 4 Well/ 
says he, 4 Mrs. Joyce, my conscience's weighted with 
many things, and yet I'm light-hearted.' And I says to 
him, 4 Sir, it's very onlikely that you go against the 
rules.' " 

44 Mr. Guthrie always seems to have a kind word for 
every one, certainly. But about my grandmother, Mrs. 
Joyce. Do you know you are the first person 1 have met 
who could tell me about my relations?" 

44 Lor' bless me! am I now? But Mr. Kestell he could 
tell you more nor I could. You see, Mr. Vicary, when 
my husband were living in this very cottage, there was an- 
other beyond us, about half a mile below here. It's been 
pulled down this many a long year now; but that's where 
old Mrs. Vicary came with her daughter. She was a 
stranger to us, for she came from beyond the forest yonder; 
but seeing her daughter was a pretty young thing, we did 
what we could neighborly for them. But we wondered at 
the time they took such a tumble-down place as that, see- 
ing they both looked superior kind of folk; but they kept 
themselves to themselves, and never talked much about 
their concerns. " 

44 And you remember my mother?" 

44 Yes, she was as pretty a gal as you could set eyes on; 
but she hardly ever went into the village, and 1 don't be- 
lieve half a dozen people saw her. She seemed down- 
hearted like, as was natural, considering her situation, and 
no husband to be kind to her." 

A sudden idea flashed into Jesse's brain. 

44 Then, Mrs. Vicary was but her mother-in-law. My 
father was a Vicary?" 

44 Well, I don't rightly know all the ins and outs. They 
were very close about their affairs; and when 1 asked the 
young thing one day, when I saw her sitting out by the fir 
wood, whether her husband wasn't coming back to her, 
she blushed as red as a peony, and said: 4 Oh, yes, Mrs. 
Joyce, he's coming as soon as ever he can. He's in foreign 
parts.' 4 Soldiering?' I said. 4 No,' says she, 4 not soldier- 
ing;' and then she seemed to shut up, and would say no 
more. So 1 thinks to myself, it's not all plain walking for 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


151 


that pretty young thing. Well, whatever it was, she was 
our neighbor, and we did our best for her. And it was six 
weeks after that she was taken ill, and when the twins was 
bom, the doctor, who passed up here, seeing me at the cot- 
tage door, said to me: 6 That poor young thing won’t live. 
I’m afraid, Mrs. Joyce;’ and, true enough, she died in a 
few days, and I mind how I felt sore for the young hus- 
band, who was in foreign parts.” 

44 This is much the same as Mr. Kestell told me,” said 
Jesse, thoughtfully; 64 but I believe my father died before 
our birth.” 

44 Well, yes, and so I thought afterward; and Mr. Kes- 
tell was very kind to the old lady, and when I went down 
to see if 1 could do anything for her and the poor infants, 
she sobbed and cried, and said she had lost everything. 

4 Well,’ says 1, 4 your son will come back and cheer you.’ 
And she looks up startled like, and says, 4 My son!’ and 
then seemed to take herself up, added, 4 No; no one’ll 
come back. He’s dead, too; and whatever is to happen 
to these poor babes I don’t know. If it wasn’t for Mr. 
Kestell, we should have been in the work-house long 
ago.’” 

44 And my grandmother died, too, soon after?” asked 
Jesse, beginning to think that there was something about 
his own history which was not quite as simple as he had 
always been led to believe. 

44 Yes, poor soul. What with the trouble of her daugh- 
ter’s death — for now I mind me she always called her her 
daughter, and there was a likeness between them, too — 
and the burden of them two babes, she seemed to lose 
heart. It was not money as was wanting either, for Mr. 
Kestell he was very kind. We found out afterward it was 
his cottage they came to, and never no rent, it’s my belief, 
did he ask for it either. Well, she caught a bad cold on 
her chest, when the winter set in, and it took her off 
almost of a sudden like.” 

44 And where were they buried?” asked Vicary; for, 
strange to say, this question had never occurred to him 
before. 

44 Not here, Mr. Vicary; but in the old parish they came 
from, ’tother side of the forest; and Mr. Kestell he saw to 
it all, and a pretty penny it must have cost him. There 
were some at the time that wondered why he took so much 


152 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


trouble for the family; but there, I dare say the old lady 
was a servant of the family, or something like that.” 

66 He has been a good friend to us all our lives/* said 
Jesse, uttering a sentiment he had often before expressed; 
but now, for the first time, a suspicion had crept in, as he 
repeated to himself: 46 There were some at the time that 
wondered why he took so much trouble for the family.** 

He must have an answer to that question, and also to 
another far more important to him than Mr. KestelTs 
motives. If there had been one feeling which had always 
ruled Jesse’s train of thought, it was that he was a free 
man, born of honest if poor parents, and, therefore, that 
he was bound to keep that name unsullied. He would 
have given up every other advantage in life rather than 
that one. 

He had thanked Heaven again and again that he need 
not be ashamed to look any one in the face; that the past 
might be humble, but that it was blameless. And then 
suddenly this proud belief seemed a little shaken. He did 
not really doubt that there was some good explanation; 
but that explanation he must have at once. The doubt, 
however slight it might be, was galling to his proud nat- 
ure; it seemed like a weight upon him that he must push 
off. And then, added to this, and all the more stroug be- 
cause of this, was that other feeling he had had before vis- 
iting Mrs. Joyce— the annoyance at Mr. KestelTs having 
chosen to assert a right which Jesse did not believe he had 
over his destiny. 

“ But, good heavens! has he that right?** he thought 
now, as, having quite mechanically taken leave of the old 
woman, and the others of the household, and having even 
received messages for *Liza, and answered them, he walked 
out once more upon his native heather. 

The sun had set over the moor, but the crimson glow 
illuminated the land of heather, making it look of a deep 
black purple. A slight mist was rising, as if some fair 
goddess had spread her thinnest veil over this favored land. 
The flowers were falling asleep, and the night-jars had be- 
gun to make themselves heard. Jesse walked on down the 
hill, and at last stopped at a small inclosure grown over 
and wild with grass and rank weeds; but his keen eyes at 
once detected the unshapely mounds that told of a cottage 
having once stood here. lie knew the spot of old; but had 


KESTELL of greystone. 


153 


never suspected before that this was his birthplace. He 
looked round on the wild scene, and noted that, far above, 
a few of the Beacon cottage lights could be seen; while 
opposite, where the gorgeous red showed the spotr whence 
the sun had lately disappeared, he gazed at the long line 
of forest land and the great clumps of firs. 

44 Her eyes saw this,” he said, sitting down on a low 
bank, regardless of the damp and dew. 44 What were her 
thoughts? Who was my father? Was she not the old 
woman’s daughter — ” 

Jesse rose suddenly, hurried forward by the strange 
tumult of his feelings. 

4 4 1 will go to him. I will go this very evening, and he 
must tell me. If I have had wrong thoughts. Heaven for- 
give me; but if he has kept back something from me, 
then—” 

Forgetting all the visions of success which had lately 
engrossed him, Jesse hurried onward. 


CHAPTER XVII. 
arrested. 

There was joy in Rushbrook House this evening, for 
the mistress of the place seemed suddenly to have made a 
step in the right direction. As many fanciful invalids are 
apt to do, she had changed her lugubrious ideas of seclu- 
sion, and now declared that she felt well enough to dine 
with her family. In a small way it was quite a little 
jubilee festivity, and Mr. KestelPs face was radiant with 
happiness. He could hardly make enough of his wife; 
and even Amice forgot her secret trouble as she saw her 
mother sitting, dressed in a gray brocade, trimmed pro- 
fusely with old lace, ready to be taken in to dinner by her 
husband. 

Amice went up to her mother and stroked her hand. 

44 Mother, this is a pleasure,” she said, softly. At this 
moment they were alone, and alone with her mother Amice 
was herself. 44 1 believe it is the idea of losing Elva that 
has made you stay down-stairs.” 

This was true enough; the sudden excitement of a lover 
and suitor had roused her. 

44 What do you think of him, Amice? 1 don’t suppose, 


154 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


however, he is your sort. You would only be fit to marry 
a clergyman. " 

Amice smiled; she was used to these jokes. 

“ 1 don't want to marry any one, mother dear, but 1 
think the London life will suit Elva. She will like meet- 
ing clever people; and Mr. Hoel Fenner is thought so well 
of, and he is so clever and good-looking." 

44 Well, I call him charming. But Elva is so hard to 
please. Do you think she will decide in his favor? Of 
course, he is not rich, and has no title; still, the Fenners 
are a very old family, they are related to the Courtneys 
and the Pellews. Just get me down the 4 Peerage/ dear. 
Your aunt Fitzgerald will be mad with jealousy that one 
of my daughters should be married first, and she will, I 
know, find something spiteful to say about Mr. Fenner's 
family." 

Amice did not answer. The worst of her, her mother 
often said, was that if you spoke evil of any one, she was 
silent. And this really made poor Amice a very dull com- 
panion to a woman whose turn of mind was decidedly 
worldly. 

44 Yes, here it is; the Pellews are first cousins to the Fen- 
ners. Strange! I must ask Mr. Fenner if he knows any 
of them. When Mrs. Eagle Bennison next calls, I should 
like to see her. She knows all* the modern generations 
better than 1 do. She does like people of title, because she 
has none herself. That is why she is always harping on 
her grandfather." 

'‘But Elva will not like this talked about till she has 
made up her mind. " 

44 Of course she will be talked about; but it will come all 
right. Girls don’t accept in this way, and find out they 
don't like a man. 1 believe she really likes him." 

44 1 think she will do so," said Amice, more guardedly. 
44 But Elva will not do things by halves; she will love him 
with all her heart, or not at all. " 

44 Young ladies were not like this when I was young. 
When suitors appeared for us girls, ~ : t was my father who 
chose. W r e should not have dared to refuse. But now 
girls are so very independent." 

Mrs. Kestell did not add that only one suitor, her hus- 
band, had ever proposed for her hand. 

At this moment Mr. Kestell himself appeared. He had 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 155 

taken such pains with his evening toilet that even his wife 
smiled at the result. 

46 There is no dinner-party, Josiah. Where’s Elva? 
Late as usual?” 

4 4 No; I heard her. She thinks now slio is a privileged 
person. Well, dear, this -is nice.” 

Amice had retired at her father’s approach, and as Mr. 
Kestell sat down near his wife, and clasped her hand in 
both his, they might have still, to all appearance, been 
lovers. 

44 Well, I do feel better. It is, I believe, because I have 
left off Doctor Horne’s prescription; he does not in the 
least understand my case. Elva, my dear, let me look at 
you. What a pity Mr. Fenner is not here! That pale 
salmon color suits her admirably, doesn’t it, Josiah?” 

44 Please, mamma, don’t begin to criticise dress,” 
laughed Elva; 44 it reminds me of Mrs. Eagle Bennison 
whom I have just met. She told me that some of the 
ladies who attended her meeting for the Training of the 
Adult Poor were really so dowdy that she feared they did 
not fully recognize how essential it was to dress up to their 
station! By the way. Amice, you are in sad disgrace with 
her serene highness; she says that if you will gq and nurse 
the sick in their own homes, you will undo all the good 
which the Taps mean to accomplish. I told her the poor 
looked upon you as one of themselves, so that you would 
not injure the Taps. And she said, 4 How very shocking!’ 
And she begs you will go and talk it over with her.” 

44 1 quite agree with her,” said poor Mrs. Kestell, taking 
her husband’s arm, while the two sisters followed them 
into the dining-room. 

That quartet would have delighted any aristocratic eye 
— the handsome, benign-looking father, the gentle mother 
in gray brocade, the two daughters, both so rich in gifts of 
all kinds; then, to add to this, all the outward and very 
visible signs of taste, culture, and wealth. 

If there were any shadow on the brilliant picture, it was 
Amice’s nervous, startled look when addressed by her fa- 
ther; but this evening Elva and Mrs. Kestell carried on 
the conversation, and both the master of the house and 
Amice remained silent. 

44 By the way, papa,” said the former, when the serv- 
ants had retired, 44 what is the matter with Symee? Her 


156 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


eyes were as red as lobsters with crying while she was dress- 
ing me. She could only say that Jesse was angry with her, 
but that you had been very kind.” 

Mr. Kestell frowned slightly. 

44 It is merely that that foolish fellow wants to throw up 
his work for something Mr. Fenner has offered him; but 
Fenner knows nothing of Vicary’s capabilities, and it is 
really leading him to ruin. I met Symee when I went to 
dress, and told her she had done quite rightly in not en- 
couraging her brother.” 

44 Why should not Jesse Vicarv choose for himself?” 
said Amice, looking up and gazing at her father with those 
deep-seeing blue eyes which annoyed him so much. 

44 Because, naturally, having always taken great interest 
in him, I wish to save him from making a mistake. Be- 
sides, he wants to take Symee away from here and make a 
home for her in those slums. The suggestion is absurd 
and impossible.” 

44 I am glad you put your foot down upon it,” said Mrs. 
Kestell. 44 We couldn't possibly spare Symee row, she is 
so useful to me; and really, after all the trouble you took 
for those penniless children, you have a right to settle what 
you think best for them.” 

44 Why have we a right?” said Amice; and Elva, noting 
her father’s annoyance, made a sign to her sister to be 
quiet. 

44 1 think, Amice, it would be better you should not in- 
terfere about this matter. 1 can not explain all the strong 
reasons why it is better that Vicary should steadily go on 
in his present position. Believe me, they are for his ad- 
vantage.” 

44 Mr. Fenner will agree with you, I am sure,” said 
Elva, 44 when }^ou explain it to him.” 

44 Of course he will. So Mr. Fenner has already written 
to you, 1 see,” said Mr. Kestell, turning the subject. 

44 Yes; he sent me a line by early post, .saying he wanted 
me to read a book he had reviewed.” 

Elva was not yet shy about Mr. Fenner. She did not 
know her own mind; but she did like thinking of all he 
had said. The first time one is loved all the world looks 
brighter, for Elva did not want Walter Akister’s love. 
She tried to believe that interview had never taken place, 
and that it had only been a bad dream. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


157 


There were all the pleasant signs of happy well-being 
when they went back to the drawing-room: the paper, the 
pretty tea-table, the open piano with lighted wax-candles; 
all little nothings in themselves, bat which had become a 
necessity to three of the inmates of Bushbrqok. 

Amice went to the window, and pulling aside the heavy 
curtains, said to Elva, who followed her: 

“It is a lovely night, Elva. Do you see the fog has 
cleared away?” 

“ Yes; and how beautiful the moon is.” 

“ Don’t say anything about it to them,” whispered 
Amice; “ but I shall go to old Mrs. Brown again to-night. 
At ten o’clock will be early enough.” 

“ What nonsense! What, sit up again?” 

“Yes; I like it. 1 am so strong it does not hurt me, 
and her daughter is almost done up.” 

“ Do take some one.” 

Amice laughed. 

“ Why, it’s not far from the Home Farm, and no one 
goes on that road, you know. Mrs. Brown has a claim on 
us, being our shepherd’s wife.” 

Elva said no more. She knew from experience that 
nothing turned Amice away from her purpose when her 
mind was made up, and it was wiser to let her do as she 
liked. 

At this moment the butler opened the door, and said, in 
a clear voice: 

“ Mr. Vicary, sir. He begs to know if you could give 
him a few minutes on particular business. He can wait.” 

Mr. Kestell put down the paper, and Elva came forward 
to the tea-table. 

“ Papa, you must have your tea first,” she said. 

“ Why do people come in the evening?” said Mrs. Kes- 
tell. “I am sure Jesse Vicary could come to-morrow 
morning. Tell him so, Josiah. ” 

“ I dare say it’s something about the Home Farm. 
Yes, Jones, tell him to wait. Show him into my study. 
There’s a fire still there, 1 suppose?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

And the imperturbable Jones retired as if all his move- 
ments were regulated by ingenious machinery. 

“ You had better have sent him away,” said Mrs. Kes- 


158 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


tell. “ If he’s come about taking Symee to London, don’t 
give in.” 

“ If he insists, 1 shall wash my hands of them both; but 
Symee is too wise a girl to be led away.” 

Amice had remained behind the curtain, gazing at the 
moonlit scene; but this remark seemed to draw her away 
from the beautiful view. 

“ Mamma, we could spare her if it were to co her good, 
to be a comfort to her brother. We don’t understand 
freedom, because we always have it; but it must be hard 
to be always at the beck and call of somebody, as Symee 
is, and no home to go to ever.” 

Amice spoke almost passionately. 

64 What nonsense you talk, Amice,” said her mother, 
peevishly. “Compared with * the lot of thousands of 
young women, Symee has indeed fallen on her legs. Your 
ridiculous notions about the poor will prevent your ever 
finding a husband. No gentleman would put up with 
such socialistic ideas. ’ ’ 

“ I was only trying to put myself in her place,” said 
Amice, with a far-off look, and showing no annoyance. 

Elva was handing the tea, and wishing to spare Amice 
further reproach, she said: 

“It’s no use quarreling with people who keep all the 
commandments, mamma. You see they always get the 
best of us somewhere. As to Symee, it’s trouble wasted, 
for she had the chance of going away, and, as papa says, 
she refused.” 

“ It is difficult to know how to be free,” said Amice. 
Then, afraid of her own boldness, she retired again behind 
the curtain, while Elva talked on to her father. 

The beauty of that happy evening, however, had faded 
away, and no one exactly knew why. Mr. Kestell listened 
attentively to his wife as she began a long discourse about 
her sister in London; but he originated no more remarks, 
and seemed to be preoccupied. And- when, tea being over, 
the bell was rung for Symee, he did not even ask his wife 
to stay longer, but he made her take his arm, and he him- 
self helped her upstairs. 

“ Darling,” he whispered, “ this has been a great pleas- 
ure to me. Our long married life has been marred by 
nothing but your health, has it, dear?” 

His eyes seemed to await the answer with intense anxiety. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 159 

44 Of course not, Josiali; but that has been a great draw- 
back to any pleasures one looked forward to.” 

44 Yes, of course it has, dear,” he sighed, and relapsed 
into silence till he remarked, on reaching the top of the 
stairs: 6 4 We might have been poorer, but then you would 
have missed all your former comforts.” 

44 But really, Josiali, we never have been poor. You 
speak as if you were going to be a bankrupt. ” Mrs. Kes- 
tell looked nervously at her husband. 

44 Oh, no, no, dear, nothing of the kind. Even if it 
were possible in my affairs— which it is not — 1 have tied 
up your fortune so that it can not be touched. 1 think 1 
have foreseen everything, dearest.” 

Mrs. Kestell was reassured, and now remembered she 
was tired, though she added, as she entered the room: 

44 My father used to say that it was almost necessary for 
the fortune of business men’s wives to be quite separate.” 

44 But you would not mind sharing poverty with me, 
would you, dear?” 

44 Whatever good would that do you? Good-night. Ah, 
Symee! there you are. 1 should like the patent night- 
light this evening. ” 

Mr. Kestell walked slowly out of the room. Once he 
turned back to see if his wife were looking after him. But 
no; she had gone at once to her table to examine night- 
lights, having a fad about their size and make. 

He heaved a little sigh of disappointment; but there was 
not one word, or one thought of blame for her in his mind. 
He knew, by long experience, that you can not expect 
sweet fruit from an ungrafted tree. His love, strong and 
deep as it had been, had never been able to graft anything 
upon the illustrious stock of Ovenden. On the contrary, 
the gentle, amiable girl had become a selfish woman. To 
watch deterioration in those we love gives far greater pain 
than to be conscious of our own backsliding; for the latter 
is always accompanied with the secret belief that we could 
change the state of things if we would, while in the other 
case our hands are often bound and tied, and we can but 
watch without being able to bring any help. 

Now Mr. Kestell once again stood in his own hall and 
paused. He hung his head and gazed at the beautifully 
tessellated pavement where Cupid was leading captive a 
train of Naiads, who danced on happily on their way to 


160 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


ruin, regardless of the Seasons who were encircled in the 
four corners of the hall, and carried each so many em- 
blems that mistake as to their identity was impossible. 

Mr. Kestell’s eyes by accident rested on Cupid’s face, 
which, being composed of small bits of marble, looked, if 
seen too close, somewhat as if he had the small-pox; more- 
over, Cupid's eyes were overlarge and leering, the artist 
having wished to express that the eyes are dangercus lcve- 
messengers. Had this Cupid come to life he would have 
frightened away any coy, timid maidens; but he was, hap- 
pily, still and lifeless, and the love and joy, the dancing 
and the mirth, remained ever the same, whatever might 
be the mood of the spectators in Mr. Kestell’s much-ad- 
mired hall. 

Cupid’s features were evidently not enlivening or sooth- 
ing; for the master of Rushbrook House slowly raised his 
head and looked first at the drawing-room door, and then 
toward his study. His inclination evidently drew him to- 
ward the drawing-room, from which issued sounds of mu- 
sic. The two sisters were singing a duet; and this, even to 
a man who was not a fond father, would have been a mu- 
sical treat. On the other hand, Mr. Kestell knew that 
Jesse Vicary was seated in his study, and had already been 
there some time, waiting for him. 

He took a step forward, quite uncertain as to his de- 
cision, then slowly walked toward the drawing-room. 

“ He can wait,” he murmured. “ Why does he come 
at this time of night?” He went still quicker; his hand 
was on the handle of the door; Amice’s rich contralto was 
enticing, and Elva’s soprano harmonized exactly with her 
sister’s notes. But though Mr. Kestell had got so far, he 
was suddenly seized with an overpowering impulse to change 
his mind. “ I had better go and get it over,” he said, this 
time to himself. He let go the handle so gently that no 
sound could be heard by the singers, and turned his back 
on the pleasant sounds. 

At this moment Jones was coming across the hall, carry- 
ing a Bible, and met his master face to face. 

46 Ah, yes, Jones, I had forgotten. 1 suppose Vicary has 
not gone?” 

“No, sir.” 

“ Very well. Tell the young ladies there will be no 
prayers this evening, and that I am not to be disturbed 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 161 

again. If I am late 1 will let Vicary out. Don’t let any 
one sit up.” 

66 Yes, sir.” 

Then Jones and the Bible went back to where they came 
from, and Mr. Kestell walked boldly to the study door and 
opened it. 

The fire had burned low in the grate, and no candles 
had been lighted, much to Mr. Kestell’s surprise, but also 
to his secret relief; he opened the door upon a much dark- 
ened room, the occasional flicker showing, however, that 
a manly form was there, standing with folded arms by a 
chair near the fire. 

44 My dear Vicary, what! no light! Beall/, what can 
Jones have been thinking of ? 1 must apologize for this 

very bad reception.” 

Mr. Kestell seized the poker, and at once a bright flame 
shot upward, showing the earnest and very anxious face of 
Jesse Vicary. 

44 It was my fault, sir,” he said, very quietly. 44 I told 
your butler I preferred being in the dark till you came.” 

44 Well, 1 am glad it was your choice, for Bushbrook 
prides itself on its hospitality. Do me the kindness to 
light the candle, Vicary. Thank you. Now take a com- 
fortable chair, and let me hear all you want to say. No 
one will disturb us.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Jesse, unfolding his arms and 
moving a heavy, straight-backed and leather-covered chair 
near to him, while Mr. Kestell walked to his arm-chair in 
front of his imposing knee-hold table, and sat down, fold- 
ing his hands and looking toward his visitor with an ex- 
pression of kind attention to what he might have to say. 

64 1 really must apologize again, Vicary, for my appar- 
ent rudeness; but this evening my wife was down-stairs, 
and such an unusual event made it impossible for me to 
come sooner. ” 

“ I had no right to come so late,” said Jesse, rather 
dreamily. 44 1 ought to apologize; not you, sir. 1 ought 
to have waited, perhaps; but the truth is, sir, I could not 
go to bed till — till I had seen you.” 

44 Beally? Don’t distress yourself about that. 1 am 
quite at leisure now. Indeed, I shall enjoy a chat. I am 
afraid that you are bearing me a little grudge about our 


162 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


former interview. Poor Symee was much distressed when 
she came in.” 

44 No, sir; 1 don’t think 4 grudge ’ was the word. You 
have a right to your opinion, and I did turn it over many 
times in my mind to see if I was wrong; but I couldn’t see 
it in your light. I hope I am not obstinate; but a man 
must learn to choose sooner or later in his life, and I 
thought that that time had come for me. 1 hoped Symee 
would see it in that light, too, sir; but she has never had 
to choose before, and she is easily influenced by those 
about her. 1 was angry about it to-day; but since then I 
have considered more deeply, and 1 see that, perhaps, it’s 
natural, and that, as you have been very kind to her, she 
has the rigfit to say what she prefers. ” 

Jesse paused. Mr. Kestell wondered if this were all the 
young man had come to say. He gave a little sigh of re- 
lief, and, taking up a paper-cutter, his face assumed a look 
of real and very genuine kindness. Jesse saw it, for he 
was looking straight at him. 

6 4 1 hope I am fair in my judgment, Vicary. My legal 
life has, perhaps, taught me to strike the balance evenly 
and justly between two sides. Perhaps I, too, was rather 
warm on the subject to-day; but though 1 may be mis- 
taken, I still adhere to my opinion. However, 1 must not 
part from you to-night knowing you are thinking hardly 
of me. You have claimed your right of choice. Well, 
though 1 am sorry, naturally, but perhaps not quite fair- 
ly, to give up all control of your future, yet I must grant 
you the privilege of choice. Some day, my dear Vicary, 
you will look back with regret to the time when you had 
no free choice. But 1 know these sentiments, when offered 
from experience to inexperience, are seldom welcome, so I 
will spare you.” 

A very genial smile parted the lips of Mr. Kestell; it 
seemed to radiate over every feature of his face. But this 
graciousness, which at another time would quite have won 
over Jesse, now seemed almost powerless to affect him. 
A deeper thought filled his mind. 

4 4 Thank you, sir, I must accept my freedom; not be- 
cause I’m not deeply grateful for your past kindness, but 
because I feel I must be a man now; life seems so often to 
offer difficulties which there is nothing for it but to solve 
one’s self, unhelped by others; a man and his better or 


KESTELL OE GKEYSTOKE. 163 

worse nature have to struggle and conquer, or be con- 
quered. 9 9 

“ You take too strong a view of youthful temptations, 
my dear Vicary. If I were not thoroughly well informed 
about your excellent conduct, you would make me believe 
in all kinds of black deeds. I do not think your sins have 
a very powerful voice. If you do not proclaim them from 
a house-top, they will, I am sure, hardly be heard . 99 

The half-jocose tone of the old man did not harmonize 
with the tumultuous feelings in Jesse's mind. 

“ 1 came here to-night about a matter of much more 
concern to me, sir, than what I shall do with my future. 
It has all come over me this afternoon, and I feel there is 
no one but you who can set me at rest about it. If it 
seems a trifle to you, it is almost more than life to me." 

Jesse could not sit still; he rose up and stood by the fire- 
place; and Mr. Kestell noticed that this question, whatever 
it might be, was really important to the young man. For 
a moment — and Jesse did not see it, as hardly knowing 
how to bring forward his subject, he turned toward the fire 
— Mr. Kestell's face relaxed, a haggard expression came 
over his features, his hand trembled visibly, so that he put 
down the paper-cutter, and, clinching his right hand, he 
put it down firmly on the table. There was in his look an 
unspoken expression of weariness, as of one ready to give 
up the struggle. If this feeling had come over him, he 
must have mastered it in a few moments, for when Jesse 
turned round again, the same half smile played on the lips 
of Mr. Kestell of Greystone. 

“Well, Jesse, speak out; what is it? We are alone. 
You had better say all that is in your mind." 

“ Forgive me, sir, if I can not express what I feel clear- 
ly; it is none the less important to my happiness— yes, to 
the happiness of my whole life." 

“ Then it is a very serious question?" 

“ Yes, and you alone can take away the burden of it. 
Tell me, Mr. Kestell, now that you have granted me my 
freedom — tell me what a free man has a right to know — 
give me an outline of my early history. Who were my 
paren ts — and — and — ' 9 

Jesse paused; even now he dared not put the question 
. plainly. 

“ My dear fellow, is that what is weighing on your mind? 


1G4 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


Why, of course, the curiosity is natural; but 1 really 
thought I had satisfied it long ago, and had told you the 
outline. Your mother and grandmother rented one of my 
cottages a month or two before you were born. The poor 
young thing died two days after the birth of her twins, and 
the old woman a month or six weeks — I forget the exact 
date — after that. 1 promised them — certainly the mother 
— that I would befriend her children; and, really, to the 
best of my ability, I have kept my word. I think you will 
grant this to meinsjfite of our little difference of opinion.” 

“My mother's name was Vicary, my grandmother was 
also called Yicary; then, was the connection between them 
that of mother and daughter-in-law? You see my mean- 
ing, sir? I have been talking to old Mrs. Joyce, who has 
lately come to live with her son's wife. She remembered 
my birth.” 

Mr. Kestell cleared his throat. 

“ Has she come home? I did not know that. I should 
certainly have gone to inquire after her. Yes, of course, 
that cottage belongs to the Joyces — a squatter family. I 
should, if 1 could have my way, buy up all those squatters; 
they lower the value of the surrounding land.” 

“ But, sir, tell me what you know. I would rather 
hear the truth. I must have an answer. I think what 
has upheld me all my life — through many troubles which 
a fatherless lad alone can understand — is, knowing that, 
though my parents were poor, I was the son of an honest 
couple; that I could hold up my head, because poverty is 
no crime, and that the best inheritance a lad can have is 
an honest name. Was my father old Mrs. Vicary's son?” 

There was a conscious pause; conscious, that is, to both 
of them. Mr. Kestell was visibly agitated, and Jesse saw 
that he was. His clinched hand on the table could not 
prevent that agitation which was taking place in his mind 
from being noticeable. Jesse thought he knew the cause, 
namely, unwillingness to tell bad news;, but as a man fall- 
ing from a great height grasps at any support, however 
powerless to uphold him, he, Jesse, hung on the answer to 
the question he had asked, and his heart almost stopped 
beating, though he fancied he heard the sound of the 
monosyllable before it issued from Mr. Kestell's lips, 

Mr. Kestell's voice was very low. 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 165 

“Was my father’s name Vicary? Was he a cousin, 
or—” 

“ No,” repeated Mr. Kestell, in the same low tone. 

“ Have 1 the right only to bear my mother’s maiden 
name?” 

Jesse put the last question in desperation. He felt he 
knew the worst already, but he was impelled to ask for the 
fullest confirmation of it. This time there was a longer 
pause than before. Mr. Kestell rose from his seat and 
came toward the fire-place, where Jesse was standing with 
folded arms, seeming to gather some kind of strength from 
this attitude, and to be bracing himself to hear the worst. 
Whatever was the reason which made the old man wish for 
time before answering, Jesse never considered. The an- 
swer was so important to him that he found no difficulty 
in believing that it ought to be well weighed before it was 
given. 

Previously, on the same day, he had fancied Mr. Kestell 
was hard and self-opinionated in reference to his future; 
but now, when his benefactor put his hand on his arm with 
a gentle, sympathetic movement, the younger man ex- 
perienced a revulsion of feeling. When we are abased in 
our own eyes, the expression of sympathy from a fellow- 
creature is tenfold more precious to us. It is like healing 
balm on an open wound, like ice on a burning forehead. 

“ My dear Jesse, don’t ask me; don’t take this to heart. 
1 would rather not be the — the one to answer you. I as- 
sure you, it is of no consequence; let us talk of other 
things.” 

“ Thank you,” said Jesse, hoarsely, though he knew 
not for what he was thanking Mr. Kestell, save for that 
gentle touch of sympathy. Now he knew the worst, noth- 
ing else mattered. 

“Now about this offer. Thinking everything over 
again, 1 am sure 1 was wrong to speak as strongly as I 
did. I — I was perhaps too hasty. I was thinking of 
Symee, our own grief at parting from her; and really, as 
I said, all things considered, I dare say with your energy 
and cleverness — you are certainly clever — you might make 
it a success. 1 don’t say I fully believe it, but if there is 
a chance of success, I ought not to stand in your way.” 

Mr. Kestell spoke so hurriedly, and was evidently so 
much moved that he hardly seemed able to speak with his 


166 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


usual clearness and conciseness; but Jesse Vicary was far 
too much occupied with his own thoughts to heed these 
signs. 

“ Thank you; there is no hurry about my decision. I 
must go now, sir. I — I — in fact, I don't feel able to see 
everything clearly yet. Good-night, and thank you for 
all your sympathy." 

Jesse held out his hand, and, hiding a momentary hesi- 
tation, Mr. Kestell took it and shook it warmly. 

“ Not a word more of thanks. Vicary, 1 think you may 
rely on my help about this situation; but take my advice 
— leave Symee here till you see how you manage; then, 
after a time, we might do something for you both. Symee 
must have a little outfit and some furniture — a little kind 
of wedding feast, eh? Take a cheerful view of the future, 
and all will come right." 

“ Thank you," said Jesse again; this time quite me- 
chanically. 

The future was nothing to him at this moment; all the 
golden light had faded out of it. He went toward the 
door and stood on the threshold, holding it open with one 
hand. It would have touched most hearts to see the 
alteration in the strong young man's bearing. This morn- 
ing he had been so powerful in his own strength; now he 
seemed utterly subdued and a mere shadow of the former 
Jesse Vicary. 

Standing so, and saying not a word, seemed strange, in- 
deed. Mr. Kestell, who still faced him, appeared to think 
so, for he repeated again: 

“ All will come right, Vicary; all will come right." 

Jesse shook his head. 

“ That can never come right;" and then, without wait- 
ing for another word, he crossed the hall and went out. 

Left alone, Mr. Kestell did not go back to his writing- 
table, but sunk down into a large arm-chair opposite the 
seat Jesse had lately left. Mr. Kestell looked fixedly at 
the empty chair, as if Jesse were still in it, and so re- 
mained for some time. 

“ I spoke the truth," he said at last, after that long 
silence; “ 1 spoke the truth; any other but he would not 
have taken it to heart. He would not hear me out — no. 
I forget; 1 did not tell him. It was impossible, quite im- 


RESTELL OF G HEY STORE. 167 

possible. I have expected this a long time. Good Heaven, 
how hot the room is!” 

He rose and went to a side window, which he threw open. 
The night air blew freshly in, and seemed to restore him 
partially to himself. 

“ Yes, yes; he had better go to Mr. Fenner’s office; and 
work will be the best remedy; it will make him forget. 
But my wife can not spare Symee, and she must be 
thought of first; yes, first. Ah!” 

He breathed a deep sigh, and then very deliberately he 
returned to his desk and began writing a letter to Hoel 
Fenner, though he knew it could not go till the next day. 


CHAPTEK XVIII. 

THE OFFER REFUSED. 

When once out of the grounds, Jesse Vicary took the 
road by the Pools; it was the way to the Home Farm, so 
he took it by instinct, not by any conscious act of choice. 
The trees that bordered the water were black and mysteri- 
ous-looking in the shadow, and the moonlight appeared in 
other places so brilliant as to cheat one into fancying it 
was daylight. Had it been pitch-dark it would have been 
all the same to Jesse; he saw nothing around him; only 
the overwhelming feeling surged up again and again, like 
the certain advance of cruel waves: “I have not even an 
honest name; not that which I care most about — oh, 
heavens, not even that!” Soon he came to the turn to 
the Home Farm; he opened the gate, and went on up the 
lane, and past the fir plantation, where the moonlight did 
not reach. At the furthest end of the wood was a great 
heap of felled trees, close to the road-side. As a drunken 
man who can go no further, Jesse Vicary staggered toward 
these; he found that walking did not ease his pain, and he 
sunk down on the hard logs and tried to be calmer. The 
pain of the shame seemed like hot irons on tender flesh; he 
felt branded with it. He had had no such trial before; so 
it seemed to him as he groaned out: 

“ Not even an honest name; and yet I would willingly 
resign everything for that. And Mr. Kestell has known 
it all along; and my proud wishes must have seemed 
ridiculous to him. What am I? Nothing — nothing, a 
scorn of men, and the outcast of the people. But that I* 


168 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


myself should hear this, should find it out. Many would 
not care, but I do; and it is death to me. Can it be true? 
Let me see — did 1 put it plainly? Good heavens, yes, only 
too plainly. ” 

He laid bis head on the cold, dewy trunks, and listened 
to the night wind sobbing above — sobbing, sobbing out his 
shame, he thought. Then his mind went back to Golden 
Sparrow Street, to all the poor and outcast there, to his 
friends whom he had so willingly served. 

44 But 1 did it from a higher pedestal,” thought he, 
44 and this is my punishment. I felt better, greater than 
they, when -all the time many of them were far above me 
— ay, many of them had an honest name, of which they 
had no cause to be ashamed.” 

Then with the moan of the fir-trees something better 
seemed to be whispered to him. This trial was not of his 
own making, or of his own seeking. 

He bent his head on his arms, which now rested on his 
knees; he wanted to shrink into nothing, if that were pos- 
sible. The dew fell ou his hair, and gathered about his 
garments; the night-jar notes sounded like a death-knell; 
a squirrel, disturbed from its sleep, ran up some branches 
of the fir near to him; but he took no notice. Nor did 
he remember that at the farm they went early to bed, and 
that they would wonder at his absence. 

All at once he was roused, however; not by any of the 
sounds of Nature, which he knew too well to be surprised 
at, but by the softest tread on the fir-needle-covered path. 
He did not raise his head; he cared too little for any one 
to believe that he should be noticed, or, if noticed, only 
treated as a curious wayfarer. Yes, i*- was a woman’s step 
— light, and quick, and strong. Nearer and nearer came 
the steps; perhaps a lass returning from meeting her lover. 
It was best for both of them that he should appear uncon- 
scious of her presence, or asleep; but strange, the foot- 
steps ceased when close beside him, and a strange thrill 
passed through Jesse’s frame, when a -hand was put upon 
his shoulder, and a voice which he knew said: 

44 Jesse Vicary, you are in trouble. Can I help you?” 

It was Amice Kestell on her way to Mrs. Brown’s cot- 
tage, where she was going to sit up with the invalid. 

Jesse stood up now, ashamed of being found by her here 
— ashamed of the very reason that was crushing his spirit; 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 169 

but he was not going to tell her a lie. Was she not the 
embodiment of his heaven? 

44 Yes,” he answered; 44 it's a sore trouble. Miss Kestell; 
but not one that can be helped by anybody/ 5 

She hardly looked like an ordinary human being as she 
stood half in shadow and half in moonlight; and to Jesse, 
who knew nothing of her errand, there came the idea that 
she was an angel who had taken the form of Amice Kes- 
tell. 

44 If no one can help you, take your trouble to — God. 1 
know He will. At eventide there will be light. ...” 

Amice said this in a dreamy voice, and looked out from 
the gloom of the wood to the full moonlight beyond, as if 
to ask for confirmation of Nature. 

Jesse did not answer. He was too much crushed to be 
easily raised up, and Amice added: 

44 1 mustn't stay; they are expecting me at Mrs. 
Brownes. If you are on your way to the farm, will you 
carry this basket for me as far as the shepherd's cottage? 
Symee will be so glad to hear about your doing this for 
me, to-morrow, when I get home.” 

Jesse took the basket with almost trembling fingers. 
Before to-day he would have felt in a seventh heaven of 
bliss to be able to render this slight service; now he was 
glad, indeed, but as a servant might be glad to carry for 
his lord. 

44 You ought not to walk alone. Miss Kestell,” he said, 
after a long silence, wondering at her courage, and fearful 
for her safety, though he knew not why. 

44 Who would hurt me? You are thinking of London; 
but will you tell me one thing now I have the chance of 
asking you? Do you want Symee very much to come and 
live with you?” 

44 1 did; but not now. I want her to be happy as long 
as possible. With me, she would have to accept my sor- 
row and that of many others.” 

44 It is very sweet to share the sorrow of those we love. 
I think Symee would find it so after a time. ” 

44 No; I could not bear her reproaches. Thank you, 
Miss Kestell, but things must take their course.” 

The cottage was close by, and Amice paused to take back 
her basket from his hands. 


170 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


46 You will go home,” she said, 44 and not stay out in 
the damp.” 

The tone of authority and the womanly thought for his 
welfare touched Jesse deeply. 

44 1 will, as you say so. Good-night, Miss Kestell, 1 shall 
not have another opportunity for thanking you for all your 
kind words and kind deeds. Will you believe that they 
will be my greatest help and comfort when 1 am away? I 
shall know Symee has one good friend.” 

He gave her back her basket, and was turning away with 
bared head; but Amice held out her hand, and he took it 
and wrung it. 

44 Good-night,” she said. 44 1 know about your work in 
London. Symee tells me about it. Would you care to 
know that your example suggested many things to me? If 
we help others we shall be helped ourselves when our own 
troubles seem the heaviest. I know it; yes, by experience. 
Good-bye.” 

She turned away, and Jesse watched her go swiftly up 
the cottage path, watched her knock and enter, and then 
with a 44 God bless her!” he turned homeward a little com- 
forted. The earth contained an Amice Kestell; it must 
then be still sweet to live in. 

The next day Hoel, sitting in that most comfortable 
arm-chair in his most comfortable lodgings, received two 
notes, both of which surprised him much, and caused him 
some curious thoughts. He knew the handwriting of one of 
them, and the postmark of the other told him that it came 
from Mr. Kestell. He opened this one first in preference 
to that written by Jesse Vicary. 

44 Dear Fenner, — I have had another conversation with 
Vicary, and 1 find that he is so bent upon accepting your 
kind offer that I have given up my objections to the plan, 
and I now hope he will find that 1 am wrong and he right 
as to the result. 1 merely write this line for fear he may 
not have thoroughly understood that I offer no further ob- 
jections to his accepting the post. 

44 We are looking forward to seeing you on Saturday. 
My little girl seems to me to look already brighter and 
happier. May this be a good omen for you; but remem- 
ber, I wish her to be quite free. 

44 Very sincerely yours, 


44 J. Kestell,” 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


171 


Hoel opened the other letter, knowing it was the accept- 
ance, and glad that he had succeeded in his plan; but, to 
his surprise, he found that he was mistaken. 

“ Dear Mr. Fenner, — 1 am writing a line before re- 
turning to London. Ckcumstances have occurred which 
oblige me to refuse your kind offer. I am none the less 
grateful, and if my work can ever be of the least use to 
you, I shall be glad to employ my small leisure in your 
service. . At present I shall go on in my old quarters, as 
my sister does not wish to leave Rushbrook, and 1 have 
come to the conclusion that most likely she is right. My 
decision has nothing to do with Mr. Kestell *s opposition, 
and is unalterable. 

“ Yours most gratefully, 

44 Jesse Vicary.” 

Hoel whistled softly. 

44 Something has happened, all the same. That man is 
not one to change for nothing. He wishes me to think 
that Mr. Kestell is not at the bottom of it; but that I de- 
cline to do, otherwise I should not have received these 
notes simultaneously. Strange! What can Mr. KestelFs 
influence be, that it is able so easily to overturn the will of 
years? It is monstrous! Why, too, should he take so 
much interest in those twins? Ah! 1 forgot — philan- 
thropy; I meant to do something of the sort some day my- 
self; though on the whole, I shall, 1 fancy, content myself 
with matrimony. Shall I win Elva Kestell? Yes, I must; 
she is worth winning. She will look beautiful when — ” 

Here Hoel lost himself in such a blissful dream of his 
own happiness, that the affairs of Jesse Vicary slowly faded 
from his mind, and when they returned, he was inclined to 
be angry with hinl, because he knew the editor would smile 
when he heard that Hoel Fennels 64 hidden treasure of a 
genius 79 had refused to be brought to light. Which was 
indeed the case, though Hoel pleasantly turned off the joke 
by saying: 

44 Well, you know the world knows nothing of its great- 
est men; evidently Vicary is one of them. ” 

44 Then Acton Birch can have the offer ?" 

44 1 suppose so/* said Hoel; and there the matter ended. 

Symee, too, received a note from her brother, over the 
contents of which Amice found her weeping bitterly; and 


172 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


it was this note which first made Amice Kestell think 
strange thoughts, the fruit of which was to alter her whole 
life. Symee, in her sorrow, allowed her to read it: 

44 Dear Symee, — Don't be angry with me. Heaven 
knows I want your sympathy now«more than ever. I shall 
be in London before you receive this. My holiday has no 
longer any charm for me. 1 must begin my life over again, 
and the new foundations must be made; and one only 
knows how deep I must go before finding a firm place. 
You will not understand this. I do not wish you to do so, 
little sister. Do not think I am blaming you; you are 
right to stay where you are. I have given up Mr. Hoel 
Fenner's offer; the only bright thing about it is that this 
will perhaps please you. You begged me so hard to give 
it up. The reason of this is, however, of no consequence 
to any but myself. God bless you. 

4 4 Your loving brother, 

44 Jesse." 


• 0 * 


PART II. 


CHAPTER I. 

BEING QUESTIONED. 

44 Tabula rasa," the white page which the great bound- 
ing heart of youth is so anxious to see filled in with the 
sweet experience of life and of love. How very easily it 
expands ready for this beautiful picture to be photographed 
on it; and then all at once the young discover that the 
finger which is writing slowly on that soft, easily impressed 
substance, is spelling, not the word Joy, .but the two sylla- 
bles Sorrow. 

Joy is not a myth, however, though one is sometimes 
tempted to ask — what is it? Is it to be found in suc- 
cess, in possessions, in admiration, or in love? All in 
succession answer 44 No;" and yet every young heart dis- 
believes, and says, positively: 44 It is somewhere, and I 
must find it." 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 173 

And Elva Kestell’s warm, loving heart said, very loudly 
indeed: 4 4 Joy is in love, and I am finding it.” 

The pair of gray ponies at the door of Rushbrook House 
pawed impatiently for the time when they might trot off. 
They appeared to know they were starting on a joyous 
errand, and were going to meet a lover; and though Elva 
was also eager to be off, she yet could not start without 
first saying good-bye to her father. 

Mr. kestell had not been very well lately. It was noth- 
ing serious, the doctor said, he 44 wanted tone;” by which 
happy expression the members of the faculty cover a large 
amount of ignorance concerning the diseases of their fel- 
low-creatures, because their minds are so rigidly fixed upon 
flesh and blood that they smile at the word spirit. If you 
want tone, you must have a tonic; and so neatly wrapped- 
up and labeled bottles had been carried by Jones into the 
study, with as much care as he carried the Bible, before 
prayers, at night, into the drawing-room. One good of 
Mr. Kestell ’s wanting tone was that his wife revived visibly 
in order to be able to tell him oftener that there was really 
nothing the matter with him, and that the doctor was all 
wrong. Mrs. Kestell, like many invalids, had a rooted ob- 
jection to any one but herself being on the sick list; so she 
did all she could to persuade her husband that the best 
thing he could do was to go to Greystone as usual. 

But Mr. Kestell seemed quite glad to be able to rest for 
a whole week and to enjoy the society of his wife and his 
daughters; or, rather, of Elva, for every day seemed to 
make a wider breach between him and Amice. There was 
no apparent reason for this; but though both knew the 
fact, no one else noticed anything very different from usual 
in their intercourse. 

Elva entered the study to-day like a strong, joyous, sum- 
mer breeze, and, at the sight of her, Mr. Kestell’s face 
brightened visibly. 

4 4 Papa, Pm off; the ponies are impatient. You must 
look more like yourself by the time Hoel comes. Suppose 
you come, too?” 

44 Three’s not company, miss,” he said, holding the 
bright face between his hands; 44 and so you are a little 
impatient, too, as well as the ponies. Will he get his an- 
swer to-day?” 

Elva blushed. That was a good sign, her father thought. 


174 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


44 Are you anxious to get rid of me, papa?” she said. 

44 I don’t want to be selfish, darling; and the more I see 
of Hoel Fenner the better 1 like him.” 

44 So do I, papa,” and Elva laughed so happily that Mr. 
Kestell gave a little sigh of relief. 

64 Then why wait longer before giving him certainty?” 

Elva stood up quite straight, looking taller than usual, 
the dark-gray eyes seemed to light up with a new expres- 
sion of hope and happiness. 

44 Because, though I do like him better every time 1 see 
him, I am not quite sure if 1 love him enough; and as he 
must always be my friend, I want to be quite, quite sure. 
The other day 1 read this: 4 He that does a base thing for 
his friend burns the golden thread that ties their hearts to- 
gether.’ I am so afraid of saying 4 Yes ’ to please him be- 
fore I am quite, quite sure. ” 

Mr. Kestell looked up at his child with a strange expres- 
sion, which made Elva say quickly, and in a tone a little 
hurt: 

44 You don’t believe me, papa?” 

44 Good heavens, child, of course I believe you; but I am 
anxious not to keep him waiting too long. It seems hardly 
fair, I mean — ” 

44 Oh, papa, I do believe the doctor is right. You do 
want something to set you up again. You are not a bit 
like yourself. It is ever since — oh, yes, I remember — since 
that time Jesse Yicary came here. Hoel says that he can 
make nothing of his refusal, and that there must be some 
mystery about it which we can not fathom.” 

44 My dear Elva, remember the ponies; you really must 
not keep them waiting any longer. Take care when you 
get to Greystone not to — I mean J upiter does not like 
the train. ” 

44 Well, yes, 1 must go. Good-bye, you dear old dad; 
take all that bottle of stuff before I come back, so as to be 
fit society for that clever Mr. Fenner. Isn’t it strange he 
cares about me so much?” 

44 Not at all strange, child. Now good-bye.” 

Amice was in the hall, ready to go out into the village. 
She had a covered basket in her hand; but to those who 
knew her she seemed paler, more thoughtful than usual, 
if that were possible. 

Elva nodded and smiled at her mother, who looked out 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


175 


of the drawing-room window at her, told Amice to see that 
there were fresh flowers in the drawing-room, and then 
stepped quickly into the pretty pony-chaise, and drove off. 
Mr. Kestell stood there watching his darling with loving 
eyes; and so engaged was he in this occupation, that he did 
not notice that Amice still remained near to him till he was 
startled by her voice saving: 

4 4 Papa. . 

He turned round quickly; all the look of joy died out of 
his eyes, and only an anxious expression remained. 

44 Well, my dear Amice? 1 thought you had gone on. 
The afternoon seems clouding over, and you must be at 
home when Mr. Fenner comes back.” 

It was only the expression of his face that altered, the 
words were as gentle and as kind as if they were addressed 
to Elva. 

44 1 am going, but I wanted to ask you something, papa; 
and yet I hardly know if I may?” 

It was so rare for Amice to originate a remark, that it 
was no wonder her father looked surprised. He did more, 
he turned away from those terrible blue eyes that looked 
him full in the face. 

44 What is it, my dear? Make haste; I am very busy 
this afternoon with accounts.” 

44 What made Jesse Vicary change his mind about Mr. 
Fenner's offer?” 

Mr. Kestell 's lips parted, as if he were indulging in a 
silent sigh of relief. 

44 You seem to interest yourself strangely about that 
young man, Amice. I don't think it is quite — quite what 
your mother would like. The reason of his refusing the 
offer is, however, perfectly simple. I made him see that 
to refuse was the wisest course.” 

Amice looked puzzled. 

44 He did it of his own free will?” 

44 Certainly.” 

44 He was very unhappy about it. Papa, I saw him that 
evening, and I shall never forget his face. It seems to 
haunt me wherever 1 go; and I cannot help fancying that, 
somehow or other, we are to blame for it. Oh, I don't 
know how; but you know — you know. Papa, don't look 
like that! Forgive me if I am saying something wrong. 
If I am wrong I am punished.” 


176 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


Mr. Kestell did not understand Amice’s meaning in the 
least; but he gave her words an interpretation of his own. 
He looked round to see if his wife was near, or if any serv- 
ant was about; but no one was there, and he began walk- 
ing down the steps so as to draw her away from the house. 
This had the desired effect. Amice followed him down the 
drive, through the gate, and along the road by the Pools. 

44 You saw Yicary the last evening he was here,” said 
Mr. Kestell, very slowly; 44 and pray what did he say to 
you? Why did you not tell me this before?” 

44 Because I was afraid to speak — ” Amice turned away 
her head, and added, almost under her breath: 66 It is 
dreadful to be always afraid.” 

44 Afraid of what?” said Mr. Kestell. 

He did not lose his temper; he was very gentle, for he 
feared to frighten Amice before hearing all she had to say. 

44 Afraid of the cry of the fatherless, which goes straight 
up to heaven. It is powerful, so very powerful.” 

Mr. Kestell paused close by the pool, whose dark waters, 
at the upper end, seemed to reflect nothing of heaven. 
The water had a strange fascination for him; it attracted 
him as fire attracts and paralyzes animals. Sometimes he 
appeared not to be able to move away from it. He seemed 
to be saying Amice’s last words over to himself, as if to 
take in their meaning. The two formed a strange picture 
in the stillness of the afternoon. All was so motionless 
round them, all except the minds of the father and daugh- 
ter. Suddenly Mr. Kestell recovered himself as he turned 
away from the water and grasped his daughter’s arm firmly. 

44 Amice, you have somehow got distorted notions about 
the truth. Why you should suddenly develop this suspi- 
cion about me I know not. I should be very glad indeed 
to set your mind at rest on the subject of Jesse Vicary, if 
that were possible. Write to him yourself, and ask him 
any question you please. I think you will find that I have 
honestly tried to do the best I could for him. I gave in 
about this offer of Mr. Fenner, for fear he should mistake 
my intentions. As to Symee’s movements, can not you see 
yourself that it would hardly be kind to let the poor girl 
share a very small income? Now, Amice, what else are 
you afraid of? Such ridiculous nonsense as you talk is 
very — displeasing to me. I never find Elva setting you 
such an example. ” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


177 


Mr. Kestell paused, and this time it was his turn to look 
straight at Amice, and to see what effect his words had 
upon her. On her side. Amice only appeared frightened 
and disturbed. She passed her hand over her forehead as 
if to clear her ideas. Evidently, when she spoke, her mood 
had changed; she was now deeply contrite. 

44 Papa, forgive me. I can't explain this feeling which 
comes over me. There, it is gone now; perhaps your ex- 
planation will send it away forever. Oh, I hope so; I 
hope so!" 

4 4 What do you mean, child? Are you mad?" 

Mr. Kestell would not be mollified by his child's evident 
distress. The two were alone, quite alone, so he could 
afford for once to speak his mind. 

46 1 hope not; I hope not. I can't be mad; though I 
sometimes ask myself if this may not be the case. It is so 
difficult to judge, so difficult. If only I could tell you 
everything; but you would be angry." 

44 Tell me everything!" 

Amice shook her head. 

44 It is gone now. There, papa, will you forgive me? I 
can't think why 1 dare question you like that. You must 
be the best judge. 1 know you will be fair in all your 
dealings with Symee and her brother. Haven't you been 
their besc friend always? They have both told me so." 

44 Very well, then, pray remember this, my dear, don't 
let us hear of this ridiculous nonsense any more. I will 
think the case over again, and see if 1 can in any way help 
Vicary further. He fancies his present work distasteful to 
him; he may like to change it. I will think it all over 
again. And now, dear, go off to your business, and re- 
member, Amice, never mention a word of all this to your 
mother; it would distress her very much." 

Amice seemed gradually to recover her presence of mind; 
her blue eyes filled with tears; and she heaved a little sigh 
of relief. 

44 1 hope it will be the last time 1 shall vex you, papa, I 
do really hope so. I am so glad you spoke quite plainly 
to me." 

Amice turned away, and disappeared quickly with a 
brighter, firmer step than usual, and Mr. Kestell walked 
on slowly along the road leading by the Pools. 

Everything was still and quiet, save for the sounds of 


178 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


Nature. A moor-hen now and then splashed along the 
reeds; the birds, especially the robins, sung songs to the 
departing year, and showed great pleasure in nipping a 
stout worm in two; beneath the cloak of song and beauty 
there is much cruelty — as we are apt to understand the 
word. 

Every step in the law of Nature seems attended with some- 
thing which revolts our higher nature. Is it that our higher 
nature sees but very imperfectly? or is it that Nature has no 
affinity with spirit, and can not be made to follow the same 
rules? 

Mr. Kestell watched the robin intently till he had fin- 
ished both halves of his worm, and had returned to his 
bough to sing a jubilant thanksgiving for his supper. With 
the spirit of a lawyer he even wondered which best deserved 
to suffer. Anyhow, it was the robin that received the 
praise and the good dinner; only morbid enthusiasts would 
waste their pity on the worm. Then he drew an analogy, 
which he did not put into words. 

“ What nonsense!” he said to himself, walking on more 
briskly. Analogies constantly fail; they are bound to 
fail; there are no such things. But this very precaution I 
took has added to the danger. So Hoel Fenner thinks it 
strange. But no, he is too much on his own side to wan- 
der into the unknown. And Amice! Good God! some- 
times I fancy that girl has second-sight; and yet that is im- 
possible. Scotch blood — nonsense! Her grandmother was 
Scotch. But 1 don't believe in such things. I expect she 
is naturally tender-hearted, and she was upset by meeting 
Vicary. I have done my best for him — my very best. His 
education cost me eveiy penny of that money. I have kept 
nothing of it — not a penny. The law is plainly on my 
side. I — I — Good heavens!” 

Mr. Kestell leaned against the trunk of an old oak-tree, 
whose leaves fell slowly and very occasionally to the earth. 

“ Not yet, not yet — it has been safe so long — not yet. 
Elva must be happy — must be. My darling must never 
know — never; anything to prevent that — anything or every- 
thing.” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


179 


CHAPTER II. 

AN ACCIDENT ON THE LINE. 

44 Miss Kestell is waiting in the carriage/* remarked 
the porter at Greystone Station. 

44 She’s waiting for the down-train, for the gennelman 
as came last Saturday/* said the other porter, with the de- 
cided tone of a man who has a good memory and knows 
how to use it. 

44 Eli?** said the first speaker, who never looked at any- 
thing attentively, unless it was luggage properly labeled. 

It was in the midst of this quiet, lazy fashion of proceed- 
ing that a whirlwind of excitement broke over the little 
country station, and, like the unforeseen storm, no one 
knew how it had first been felt. 

44 An accident on the line!*’ Every one seemed to know 
it at once without exactly asking or being told. 44 It*s the 
down-train; just outside Rigby’s Tunnel. Three carriages 
gone off the rails. Everybody killed? No; ten dead, and 
all wounded. How was it smashed up? A carriage came 
uncoupled, dragged some more along with it down an em- 
bankment. Greystone doctor required, and help at once.** 

How much of all this Elva heard or understood she 
could not remember afterward, but it all flashed suddenly 
upon her when the groom, regardless of all that was right 
and dignified, rushed into the station to find out; and when 
the porter with a good memory came rushing past her to 
fetch some one. 

Elva’s heart seemed for a moment to stop beating; then, 
as the groom came back pale and excited with the news, all 
the blood rushed back to Miss Kestell’s face. 

44 Rigby’s Tunnel; it’s only three miles off. Quick, Ben! 
1*11 drive on. We might help, if — with — ** 

She was afraid somebody would stop her; and she felt 
she must go. Suppose Hoel Fenner was — No, not that 
— not that; Hoel, so clever, so wonderful — not that; it 
could not be. She whipped the ponies fiercely, and they 
trotted off. There was no engine at Greystone to send, 
but several men had already started off running along the 
rails, knowing all the other trains were stopped. A dog- 
cart which had been waiting near to Elva also took the road 


180 


KESTELL OF GRET STOKE, 


to Rigby’s Tunnel. Altogether it was a curious experience 
of wild excitement, and with no time to express it in. 
Elva only had one aim in view — to get there as quickly as 
possible, and to know the truth. Hoel’s wonderful per- 
sonality suddenly assumed quite different proportions in her 
eyes; her heart beat strong and quick. At this moment 
she felt that the knowledge of his danger had altered her 
whole view of him. He might be killed just because he 
had been coming in this train, and coming to see her! 
Loving her might be his death-blow. 

The dog-cart in front of her suddenly drew up as Dr. 
Pink, the parish doctor, came running out of a small 
house. The news had reached him, and he seized the first 
opportunity that presented itself of driving to the scene of 
action. This delay gave Elva the start; and now, regard- 
less of the correct speed at which a lady should drive, she 
whipped up the ponies, and made them go quicker than 
they had ever gone before. Never had she gone the dis- 
tance in such a short time. Now she was within sight of 
the spot, and, though for a moment her eyes became dim 
from fear and excitement, she noticed that already a crowd 
had collected; that there were several heaps of broken 
debris ; and that the crowd was thickest at the bottom of 
the small embankment. 

Elva never once thought of herself. She pulled up the 
ponies, threw the reins to the groom, and ran to the spot. 

“ The doctor is coming; he is close behind me. Where 
are the wounded — the — ” She could not say those who 
are killed. 

She spoke in vain, however; it was not easy to get 
through the crowd. The guard and several gentlemen 
were trying to keep people off. 

“ They’re working hard at rescuing. You see some of 
them,” said an old man near to her. 

64 The doctor is here,” said Elva again, and this time the 
word acted like a talisman; for when 'Dr. Pink jumped 
down from the dog-cart every one made way for him; and 
Elva, following close behind, was able to get near to the 
scene of the accident. Now she paused and saw how little 
she could do. Only the men could work among that mass 
of broken wood-work; and she saw that she was in a crowd 
of frightened women and children, most of whom were un- 
harmed passengers from the unfortunate train. 


KESTELL OE GREYSTONE. 


181 


All at once her heart gave a leap of intense joy and re- 
lief. There was Hoel himself, working with the rest. He 
was safe, thank Heaven! It seemed like an answer to 
prayer. She saw him pulling away debris , going on his 
knees to lift something, then carrying it away with the help 
of two or three more men. Something — The crowd told 
her what it was. 44 It's a poor lady. They say she's 
dead, or fainted." 

Elva could not keep quiet now. She broke through the 
crowd, and hurried to the foot of the embankment, meet- 
ing Hoel face to face as he was hurrying back. Their 
hands met; there seemed to be no power of words, save 
about the suffering. 

64 The doctor is seeing to her; go and help him. She is 
a third-class passenger, but a lady, I am sure. 1 must go 
back; there are others." 

44 You are not hurt?" she said, and her eyes, meeting 
his, said much more. Hoel felt the look, though he did 
not stop for more than a shake of his head, while Elva 
went on toward the little group which surrounded the lady. 

44 Doctor Pink, can I do anything? Is she alive?" 

Dr. Pink knew Elva well. He looked up, glad to see 
a lady. 

44 Thank you. Miss Kestell. Your handkerchief, please; 
and kindly come and hold this lady's head. I think she 
has fainted." 

Elva did as she was bid, though not without a little shud- 
der as she saw that the doctor was binding up a crushed 
hand. . It was a sight too terrible to look at; so she looked 
away, determined to do as she was bid, and not give away 
to her feelings. 

The worst was that the accident had taken place in a 
country spot, with hardly a cottage in sight, and no res- 
toratives at hand except such as the passengers could pro- 
vide. 

44 Are there many buried?" asked Eka, as, though she 
strained her eyes to see Hoel, she was just out of sight of 
the debris. 

44 Ten in all, we fear." 

44 Doctor Pink — here, you are wanted. Here's a man 
who must be attended to at once. " 

Another doctor had arrived now, and there was a case 


182 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


of immediate amputation, so that Elva was left in charge 
of the lady. 

44 I must go, Miss Kestall. Here's a drop of brandy in 
this flask; moisten her lips. Except for the hand, 1 see no 
other injury. It may be merely a faint. Do your best. 1 
must go to this other case. ” 

Elva nodded, and, looking up, saw Hoel once again help- 
ing to bear a burden. There was a cattle shed in the field 
close by. She saw that the party went there. She dared 
not look further. 

44 A man’s true nature comes out in an emergency,” she 
thought, as she bathed her patient’s face; 44 and I — 1 fan- 
cied he was only a literary man. 1 see 1 was wrong.” 

Presently she found all her thoughts were required for 
her patient, who suddenly opened her eyes, and, gradually 
recovering consciousness of what had happened, began 
to cry. 

A shout from a little crowd was the next thing that Elva 
remembered. 

44 Take care, take care!” Merciful heavens! the top has 
fallen in!” 

Elva had now a few people round her and the sufferer, 
and, as this Jast was slowly recovering, she rose up and 
took a few steps down the path to see what was causing the 
new excitement. She noticed that a huge mass of debris , 
which had been lying on the edge of the embankment, had 
now begun to slip. She saw that Hoel, who had returned 
at that moment, could not avoid the spot. A great bar 
struck him, and he was completely knocked over. With a 
cry of horror, Elva bounded forward; nor could she be 
stopped by several men, who called out to her not to go on. 

44 Stop, ma’am; you mustn’t go that way. It’s not safe 
yet.” 

44 1 must go. That gentleman — is he hurt?” 

With the agility born of the free, out-of-door life she had 
led, Elva climbed the steep bank, determined to get round 
that way. At the top, however, her passage was again 
barred. 

44 Miss Kestell — Elva, this is madness,” said a low, harsh 
voice. 44 Why are you here?” 

It was Walter Akister, and Elva felt indignant at the 
very fact of his being on the spot at all at this moment. 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 183 

44 Mr. Fenner has just met with an accident. I must go 
and see if he is hurt. Let me go by.” 

Alva spoke haughtily, and almost passionately. 

Walter Akister did not seem to heed her words. He 
grasped her arms to prevent her progress. 

64 How can you go into danger like this when there are 
so many real sufferers to attend to? Wait here, I will go 
and find out what you want to know.” 

Mr. Akister’s words were further strengthened by an 
official, who spoke with authority: 

44 You can’t pass here, ma’am. There has been another 
fall of rubbish. If you want to get past you must go down 
the embankment and round that meadow. We can’t have 
females here.” 

Perhaps Walter himself might not have been allowed to 
go by had he asked leave. As it was, he had safely passed 
the dangerous portion of road- way while the official was 
speaking to Elva. She saw him running down the em- 
bankment on the other side. 

She was not going to be ordered, however, or entirely 
thwarted. She had had too much her own way all her life 
long. Quickly she turned back, ran lightly down the em- 
bankment, and hurried over a gate into a meadow to make 
the desired circuit. It was five minutes’ walking. She 
never paused, but hurried on, her eyes eagerly straining to 
catch a sight of Hoel. 

At last she reached the gate; several persons were lean- 
ing against it. 

44 Let me go by, please,” she said. 44 Tell me, is that 
gentleman much hurt who was knocked down? Where 
have they taken him?” 

44 There’s a sight of people hurt,” was the useless an- 
swer, and Elva hurried on toward the shed. 

Happily for her, Hoel was not inside; and just outside 
she saw first Walter Akister, then Dr. Pink. They were 
bending over somebody, but that somebody was sitting on 
some sawn wood. She at once recognized Hoel Fenner. 

44 Mr. Fenner, are you hurt?” 

Hoel was pale, but there was actually a smile on his face. 

44 Nothing at all to signify; only my arm broken. It’s 
set already; but I’m afraid I’m useless now — eh. Doctor 
Pink? Mr. Akister, will you take my place? There’s only 
one more unfortunate to extricate.” 


184 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


Walter looked at Elva. He must have seen the tell-tale 
expression ; then, without a word, he walked away to take 
HoePs place; but certainly Miss Kestell never watched his 
efforts. 

“Your carriage is here, I see. Miss Kestell/ 5 said Dr. 
Pink, hurriedly. “ Take Mr. Fenner home. I advise his 
going to bed at once; and IT1 come round as soon as ever 
I can. 55 

“Yes, 1 suppose 1 must/ 5 said Hoel; “but I 5 m sorry 
not to see the end. 55 

“ I 5 m sure, sir/ 5 said a railway man who had come to 
inquire, “ you 5 ve done wonders. I 5 m sorry that 5 ere rub- 
bish took to falling so unexpectedly like. The passengers 
wishes me to express their thanks to you. 55 

Hoel waved his uninjured left hand, and tried to rise. 
Every one dispersed then to help greater sufferers, and 
Elva said, gently, and a little shyly: 

“ Will you take ray arm? 55 

Hoel did so. It was the sweetest moment in his life, he 
thought. But it was only for a few steps he accepted the 
offer. He would not let Elva fancy he was taking ad- 
vantage of her because the situation was interesting. 

Just before they drove off, Dr. Pink brought a slip of 
paper to Elva. 

“ Will you leave this with Daulington at Greystone, and 
tell him to send this stuff at once? 55 

“ It 5 s a bad case, 1 fear/ 5 this Hoel, “ and I might have 
been in the same circumstance. 55 

“ Poor fellow; the amputation was the only chance, and 
I fear he will sink. Mind you rest. Miss Kestell, I must 
make you responsible for this patient. 55 

Elva nodded her head and drove off carefully. The 
groom was behind them, so nothing of importance could 
be said, which was as well for Hoel, for, now he was away 
from the scene of the accident, he felt a good deal stunned, 
and he lay back in the carriage and closed his eyes. Elva 5 s 
heart was too full to say much; and also, now that the ex- 
citement and the danger were over, she was not so willing 
to show what she had gone through. 

“ Who was the one remaining? 55 she asked, presently. 
“ Has he been suffering all this time? 55 

“ No 1 don 5 t think he 5 s suffering much; but he 5 s blocked 
in in a most peculiar way. I went once or twice to see 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


185 


what 1 could do for him; but, seeing he was pretty cheer- 
ful, we left him. I think he said his name was Button, 
and bound for Greystone. He and 1 were the only pas- 
sengers for Greystone, so 1 felt an interest in him; but he 
said that he was pretty comfortable, and we were to see to 
the others. He can't move hand or foot, and it seems a 
miracle he's alive." 

44 Button? I seem to know the name. 1 dare say papa 
will know. He knows the Greystone people better than 
we do, of course." 

44 So you drove on when you heard," said Hoel, in a low 
voice. 46 1 was so much afraid you would — suffer or be 
hurt by these painful scenes." 

44 I shall always be glad 1 came," said Elva. 44 But you 
ought not to talk. Am I shaking you? Still, the sooner 
we are home the better." 

44 1 am quite satisfied with my present circumstances," 
said Hoel, in his bright way, and yet Elva could not doubt 
that from his tone the words were true. 

She blushed deeply; she could not find a repartee as 
usual. The injured arm, now in an extemporized sling, 
occasionally touched her, and seemed to send a strange 
thrill of pride through her. Courage in a man has the 
same magic effect on a woman as the exhibition of woman- 
ly tenderness to a man. The highest development of the 
special attribute of the sex often deceives the opposite gen- 
der. A man often does not fully realize that a courageous 
woman may be infinitely better than one who is easily 
moved by the sorrow of others; and a woman glorying in 
the hero, whose courage is palpable, forgets that a lion- 
hearted man can be very selfish; may, in fact, make a very 
bad husband. 

It was getting dusk when the ponies drove up to Bush- 
brook House, and the hero of the day walked into the hall, 
preceded by Elva. At the same moment Mr. Kestell hur- 
ried in, having only just heard of the accident. 

44 My darling," he said, quickly, 44 thank Heaven you 
are back with Mr. Fenner. I've only just heard. Don’t 
go into the drawing-room and startle your mother, dear. 
I will prepare her. Mr. Fenner, what can we get for you? 
Jones is a capital nurse." 

44 Don't agitate yourself, dear old dad," laughed Elva, 
now quite herself, after the refreshing drive. 44 Mr. Fen- 


186 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


ner is not very bad, and nearly all the poor people are ex- 
tricated now. Where is Amice ?” 

“Not come in yet. 1 am glad you are not too much 
upset. Yes, that is right. Doctor Pink will come in, 1 
conclude. ” 

“ Yes, poor man, if he can. He will have his hands 
full. Doctor Roberts and another man are there.” 

Elva went upstairs, and Jones and Mr. Fenner followed. 

“ If you prefer coming down, you can lie on the library 
sofa,” she said, and then went into her own room. 

She looked into her glass and saw how excited she was; 
how brightly her eyes shone. She locked her door, and 
walked up and down, thinking deeply of Hoel. Then, 
stopping short, she knelt down and laid her head on a 
chair, and sobbed. 

“ I am sure now, Hoel. Hoel, I love you,” she sobbed. 
“ For better for worse, you are my hero. ” 

The tears were not all happiness. For such a child of 
freedom as she was, with the love and joy came a feeling 
of curious regret; for, to love means a great deal of un- 
selfishness, a great deal of giving up of self, and Elva had 
never yet understood this. 

It was an hour later when she softly opened the library 
door. Jones and her father had been most kind, and had 
done all that could be done till the doctor came again. 
Mr. Kestell wanted to telegraph to London, but Hoel 
would not hear of it. And now he had begged to see Elva 
for a few moments. 

There seemed to his attentive ears a change in her foot- 
step as she entered. Hoel was lying down on the sofa, 
covered with rugs. His head had begun to ache a little, 
and he felt tired out. 

There was a shaded lamp put near to the invalid, and, 
sitting up, he saw Elva coming softly toward him. He 
thought at that moment she was the most beautiful woman 
on earth. 

“ How good of you!” he said, trying to speak as usual, 
though his voice shook a little. “ I expect Doctor Pink 
will turn up soon, and then I may be exiled upstairs. 1 
wanted to thank you for all you did 'this afternoon.” 

Elva sat down in a chair close by; her limbs trembled; 
and she looked away, 

“ Don’t thank me,” she said, trying to speak firmly. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


187 


“ I was so — so afraid for you, that 1 was obliged to come 
on. 1 thought you might have been killed — coming here. 
1 should have been so miserable, as if it were my fault. 
And instead of that — I — Mr. Fenner, may 1 say some- 
thing? 1 never believed in you enough. 1 know now that 
a critic can be a hero as well.” 

Elva never gave in in a half-way; she was not cautious 
or calculating. 

HoeFs heart beat high now; but he was very anxious to 
be truly just toward the woman he loved. 

“ You mustn't think that a mere thing like that makes 
any difference. Kemember, I’m the same Hoel whom you 
were doubtful about coming for yesterday.” 

“ No, you are not,” said Elva, slipping down, and kneel- 
ing by the sofa; “ you are infinitely a greater, nobler man 
than I fancied. And — will you forgive me for having 
doubted it?” 

Hoel forgot all about his desperate fatigue, forgot every- 
thing but Elva now, and sat up. He had only his left hand 
to offer, and this very act exhibiting his unusual state of 
helplessness, touched the woman's heart. Hoel, before 
•this, had wanted just that touch of helplessness which 
fascinates a woman. 

“ Don't move,” she said, taking his hand in both hers 
with the tenderness of a mother. “ I won't allow it. 1 
wanted only to say one thing.” 

Hoel looked at her now; there was no mistaking his love 
and admiration. 

“ What?” he said, hoarsely; all the tumult and the ex- 
citement of the afternoon seemed to return tenfold. 

“ You won't be able to use your right hand for a long 
time. Let me be your right hand. '' 

“ Do you mean it? — not now, only, but always?” he 
said, hardly able to bear this scene. 

“ Always,” she whispered, hiding her face on his arm — 
“ always, till death part us.” 

He jumped up now, nothing could keep him there. He 
stood up to his full height, and put his left arm round her, 
so that her head lay on his shoulder, and he kissed her pas- 
sionately. 

“Do you really mean it? Say it again. Elva, say 
‘Hoel, I love you. 3 ” 

“ Hoel, I love you.” And she added: “ My hero.” 


188 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


CHAPTER TIT. 

WORTHLESS PAPERS. 

Elya walked upstairs as if she were treading upon 
golden clouds which were wafting her to heaven. The 
dressing-bell had just rung as Dr. Pink entered, and the 
happy girl fled. Her first thought was for Amice, whom 
she found sitting by the window of her room. There was 
no moon, only darkness in the sky, and a few stars shin- 
ing between gathering clouds. 

Elva went and threw herself on the ground beside her, 
and for once did not notice anything in her sister's face. 

“ Amice darling, kiss me, wish me joy. It has all 
come upon me to-day; before I was always hesitating. I 
did not know if I cared enough, or 'if I could believe 
enough in him; but it is so different now. You should 
have seen him this afternoon; never one thought of him- 
self. Amice, T saw then what a silly thing I had been to 
have had any doubt about him. Amice, Amice, this is 
life, this is happiness, if only I could hope you would some 
day have the same." 

Amice took both her sister's hands and gazed into her 
face; the large, blue eyes had a strange, far-away expres- 
sion that suddenly startled even Elva, who was used to 
Amice's curious ways. 

“ Amice, what is it? Why are you so grave, so sad to- 
night, when 1 am, oh! so happy, that I can't find words 
for it? I suppose papa will go and help him? I wish I 
might. T can't bear the idea that they will hurt him. I 
never knew what love meant before. When it comes, dear 
Amice, there is no mistaking it. But even now I feel so 
miserable at the idea; he might have been killed, and then 
I should never have realized my loss.* Isn't it foolish of 
me?" 

“ Do you love him very much?" said Amice, at last. 
66 1 knew that would come. If he were quite worthy of 
you, then I should be happier." 

“ Quite worthy of me. Now, you dear, gloomy child, 
don't utter such stupid fancies. But you did not see him 
as I did. If he had not been ordered off, he would have 
stayed to help the last poor unfortunate sufferer. Oh, I 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


189 


wonder how he ever got out? How horridly unfeeling 
one is when one is happy one's self. Fancy, Amice, Wal- 
ter Akister was there; that was the only thing I did not 
like. I really think he must have the evil eye; he looked 
so angry when he saw me coming toward Hoel. I am 
glad Hoel is my first, my only love. I have never cared a 
bit about any one else, have I? 1 wonder if we shall quar- 
rel? If we do, I know I shall give in; and yet that's quite 
unlike me. Amice, I never knew before that love does 
change one entirely; it makes one's whole character differ- 
ent. How strange!” 

“ Is papa glad?” asked Amice, laying her head on her 
sister's shoulder. “ Dear Elva, I made him angry this 
afternoon — really angry. See!" 

Amice drew up her sleeve a little, and showed a little red 
mark. Elva looked at it, and felt strangely afraid that 
her sister really was not quite like other people. 

“ Amice, what are you saying? What nonsense. Papa 
never in all his life was rough to any one, and least of all 
to one of us!” 

Amice hastily pulled down her sleeve again, and was 
silent; and Elva thought it wiser to take no more notice 
of the incident. 

“I wish I were already Hoel's wife,” she said, “be- 
cause then I could do all his writing for him. Now, I do 
hope he will stay here till he is well. 1 must dress. What 
color does he care most about? I am sure I don't know. 
There’s a carriage driven up. Oh, dear! it's the squire 
and his wife; it is merely curiosity that has brought them. 
Symee, quick! Let me put on my velvet gown. 1 must 
go and receive them. Mamma is upstairs; and you look 
like a ghost. Amice.” 

In a very few minutes Elva hastened to receive the Eagle 
Bennisons, who, having heard of the accident, and garbled 
accounts about Mr. Fenner, came at once to see if they 
could help. Mrs. Eagle Bennison alternately smiled and 
looked pathetically grave. 

“ My sweet child. Yes, we have heard; so sad. Poor 
Mr. Fenner! and I fancied — ” 

Elva was not going to live through a string of innuen- 
does. She boldly spoke out after the squire had added: 

“ Does Doctor Pink think there is any hope?” 

“ Oh, dear, whatever have you heard? Not the truth, 


190 


KESTELL OF GEEYSTONE. 


certainly. Mr. Fenner was coming to stay here for the 
Sunday — ” 

46 As he had done several times already/* smiled Mrs. 
Eagle Bennison. 

44 Yes, and he was in the train that met with the acci- 
dent, but he was not hurt at all. Only when he was doing 
wonders toward recuing the poor people who were many of 
them jammed in, some debris fell on him, and his arm 
was broken; but it is nothing serious, only, of course, very 
inconvenient. ” 

44 Really, is that so; but perhaps he won’t mind much 
being an invalid in this charming society/* said Mrs. 
Eagle Bennison. 

44 1 hope he won’t, considering we are engaged to each 
other,” said Elva, quickly, and very decidedly. 

44 My dear child! How very interesting! Well, really — 
John, do you hear? Do wish your favorite joy. Now, 
darling, I must kiss you. Such a talented young man! 1 
feel it is all my doing. l T ou met him first the evening of 
the dinner-party at our house.” 

44 And your father, what does he think?” asked the 
squire, kindly. 

44 Papa is not likely to object to my choice; and, besides, 
everybody likes and admires Mr. Fenner. I think I 
am — ” 

No, Elva would say no more; Mrs. Eagle Bennison was 
such a gossip. 

44 Well, really, now, won’t George be interested! He 
made me believe that a certain Walter Akister w r as to be 
the lucky man. Even the accident quite pales in interest 
when compared with such a romantic ending to it. I wish 
I had known sooner. We had a meeting of the T. A. P. S., 
and our committee would have been so much interested. 
Dear Miss Heaton w r as only to-day speakiug to me against 
matrimony. She says clergy oughtn’t to marry; but, of 
course, critics — that is quite another thing. Don’t begin 
to write stories, though, Elva dear; for your husband will 
be bound to praise you against his will.” 

Elva blushed, and thought Mrs. Eagle Bennison more 
odious than ever before; but happily, at this moment, Mr. 
Kestell himself entered the room. He looked as pale and 
agitated as if he himself had witnessed the accident. 

44 So your guest is not killed,” said the squire. 44 Really, 


KESTELL OE GREYSTOKE. 


191 


how stories get exaggerated! Guthrie declared there was 
not a word true, and would not trouble himself to accom- 
pany us, so he has missed quite a startling piece of news!” 

“Yes, my dear Mr. Kestell, let me wish you every hap- 
piness for this dear child. Little sly puss, not to tell us 
before!” 

“ Papa, Mrs. Eagle Bennison means that she is very 
much surprised that such a famous man is engaged to such 
a very unknown person as your daughter! What does 
Doctor Pink say?” 

Mr. Kestell received the congratulation with his usual 
courtly politeness. He even looked much gratified as he 
placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder. 

“ The young ones soon forsake the nest nowadays, Mr. 
Bennison; but I only wish to consult their happiness. I 
have long ago decided it is best to give in to their fads and 
fancies.” 

“ Well, you are a good father! and so there is no anx- 
iety about your patient?” 

Dr. Pink now entered and answered for Mr. Kestell. 

“ None at all; but I have sent him to bed. To-morrow 
he can do as he likes. The splints must not be moved; 
but at his age it will be but a short affair.” 

The accident was of course rehearsed, and then Elva 
asked the doctor: 

“Was that poor man hurt when he was at last extri- 
cated?” 

“ No; not overmuch; but he'll be laid up at Greystone 
for some time. There is a rib broken; but I hope that is 
all. A marvelous escape! By the way, Mr. Kestell, when 
asked about his whereabouts the man gave the name of 
Joe Button, and said he was on his way to see you.” 

“Joe Button?” said Mr. Kestell, slowly. 

“ Yes, that was his name. He's gone to the Three 
Feathers. 1 told him I would ask you what you knew of 
him.” 

“ Ah, yes; thank you. I'm afraid the poor fellow must 
be hard up for cash if he came to see me. He was once 
employed by me in — in the North. Thank you; I will go 
and see him. ' ' 

“ Well, don't let him sponge upon you,” laughed Dr. 
Pink; “ the company is bound to pay the doctors' bills of 
these poor people. Now I must go back. 1 expect I shall 


192 


KESTELL OE G KEYSTONE. 


be up all night; but Pm glad your patient will cause you 
no anxiety. A very simple case indeed.” 

Mr. Kestell followed the doctor to the door, and the 
Eagle Bennisons soon took their leave, the squire saying 
that he should drive on to Greystone, and see if he could 
be of any service to any of the sufferers. Left to his own 
devices, the squire was as tender-hearted as a woman; but 
he had his spouse to reckon with. 

44 Good-bye, dear Elva,” said this lady; 44 come and tell 
me all about it to-morrow. I do love young people, you 
know; and an engagement is quite an excitement in poor 
out-of-the-way Bushbrook. ” 

Everything was disorganized to-day; for when dinner 
was announced, Amice sent down word that she would stay 
up with her mother, who wanted to hear about the acci- 
dent. Elva was restless and excited, and Mr. Kestell 
rather silent till the servants left the room. Then father 
and daughter were once more alone. 

44 Dear old dad* I suppose I have given in now, and 1 
thought once I never should. I hope he will be able to 
stay here some time. Papa, say you like him very, very 
much, or we shall disagree.” 

How different this daughter was from the other, thought 
Mr. Kestell, as he looked up with rather a sad smile. 

44 Would anything or anybody turn you against your old 
father, Elva?” 

44 No,” she answered, with flashing eyes, “ of course not. 
Not even Hoel! But you do like him?” 

44 Of course. DoiPt imagine anything to the contrary, 
my dear! By the way, I looked in just now, and Fenner 
was going off to sleep. Jones quite enjoys an invalid, he 
tells me.” 

44 1 have always wanted you to have a son, papa; and 
now you will really have one. ” 

44 One who wants to rob me of a daughter!” 

44 Not really; we shall be here often, very often; we 
shall always be running down. I hate London, you know. 
Oh, I am a country bird, and shall never be a town spar- 
row; but 1 shall be a help to him, for, after all, you know, 
papa, women do see things rather all round, or else they see 
one side very clearly, and either of these things is useful to 
the lords of creation, who take such a time to turn round 
on their own axis!” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


193 


u You impudent girl! You must go to bed early, and 
rest after such a day. I think I shall order the carriage and 
go to Greystone. The squire shames me into action.” 

“ You, papa! At this time of night; why, it is past 
eight o’clock!” 

“ Yes; but this Joe Button may be penniless. He used 
to work for me, and I pensioned him; but I fear he drinks 
all the money before he gets it. Poor wretch!” 

“ The fellow ought not to have been coming down to 
beg of you, papa, when you are so kind. You spoil every- 
body. ” 

“ So that you are happy, darling, nothing matters.” 

“ Papa, you are always good to me. Sometimes I won- 
der how I can leave you. It seems as if I couldn’t realize 
that part. ” 

There was a sob in Elva’s voice. 

“ No, no, not more good than you deserve. You, at 
least, have never given me anxiety. ” 

The emphasis on “you” made Elva suddenly recall 
Amice’s words. One glance at her father’s face made her 
feel sure he could not be harsh. But she would make her- 
self certain of the fact. 

“ Papa, what is the matter with dear old Amice just 
now? She has such queer fancies. Actually, she says you 
are angry with her, and believes you made a mark on her 
arm!” 

Elva laughed to hide a feeling of shame she had at even 
mentioning such a thing. 

“ No, it must be fancy. Don’t believe anything she 
tells you. I have myself noticed how curiously fanciful 
she is; it rather distresses me; in fact, if it could be man- 
aged, Amice ought to go away for change of air.” 

Elva was relieved, and yet also perplexed and distressed 
for her sister’s sake. She had seen the mark. Then who 
had made it? 

“ That would be no use; she would never leave home 
without me. ” 

“ Then could you not, both of you, go away a little, and 
take Symee with you?” 

“ Oh, papa! not now of course — oh, no. Don’t take 
any notice of Amice; she is so horribly shy sometimes, 
even of you.” 

“ Very well; I only suggested it; I don’t know why. 


194 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 


Of course you could not leave home just now, and the win- 
ter is coming on. We must try in the spring, before your 
wedding, to go to Paris. But what will Fenner say? He 
may want you at Christmas, perhaps. A little Christmas 
gift. Well, well, we shall see. No, everything must go 
on as usual. " 

Elva had lost herself in a dream of happiness, and did 
not notice her father's changing mood. Nothing was 
really as usual to-day. 

When she rose to go, her father kissed her good-night. 

“Go to bed, child. I shall go upstairs and see your 
mother, and then drive to Greystone. Don’t tell her or 
any one; she is so easily made nervous. I shall be late, I 
dare say." 

Elva put her arms round his neck. She was nearly as 
tall as he was, and she could lay her cheek near to his. 

“ Papa, thank you a hundred times for all your good- 
ness about Hoel. You did exactly what was right; you 
gave me time to be sure; and now 1 am sure. 1 do believe 
it was all your doing. Say, God bless you." 

Mr. Kestell kissed the soft cheek in silence, and so ten- 
der and long was the kiss that Elva forgot the omission of 
the words, for, at that moment Amice opened the door 
and said that Mrs. Kestell wanted to see Elva. She did 
not enter the room, and Elva, remembering her curious 
ideas, went hastily away with her. After this, Mr. Kes- 
tell rang the bell and ordered the carriage to come round. 

“ Mr. Fenner sent you a message, Elva. He begged 
you would go to bed early and rest, and said you were not 
to worry about him, as he felt quite comfortable," said 
Amice. 

“ I won’t worry; why should I? 1 am so happy. Now 
I will go and tell mother a very little outline of the whole 
afternoon, and then go to bed." 

“ I will sit up then, in case anything is wanted. 1 shall 
tell Jones I shall be in the morning-room. He will sit up 
with Mr. Fenner." 

“ You must call him Hoel now," said Elva, laughing; 
and then the happy girl went to see her mother, and after- 
ward to bed. 

Greystone was still in a state of excitement over the rail- 
way accident; but as the night was dark, it was chiefly in 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


195 


the public-houses that the common people discussed it. 
At the Three Feathers, especially, the topic was interest- 
ing, as, upstairs, lay one of the sufferers. When Mr. Kes- 
telFs carriage stopped at the door, the innkeeper felt de- 
cidedly elated, and came forward with alacrity to speak to 
the gentleman. Every one knew Kestell of Greystone’s 
carriage; had it not been a daily sight these many years 
past? Mr. Kestell himself looked rather more smiling and 
kind than usual when he inquired after the sufferer. 

“ 1 hear a certain Joseph Button is laid up here. Poor 
man, I know something of him, and would like to see him 
if this is possible. Doctor Pink told me he could be found 
here.” 

“ Yes, sir; will you walk up, sir? A most unfortunate 
accident. They say there are ten in Greys tone to-night 
unable to move; but the rest have gone on to their friends. 
The man you speak of is rather easier now, thank you, 
sir.” 

“ I am very glad to hear that. Yes, I will see him. 
Did he have any luggage?” 

“ Just a bag, sir, which has only been brought here half 
an hour ago. Come up the private stairs, sir. Betty, 
show Mr. Kestell up to the room where the injured 
man is. ” 

The landlord touched his forelock and returned to the 
bar, leaving Mr. Kestell to Betty, his wife. Mr. Kestell 
walked slowly up the steep stairs, for the Three Feathers 
was an old house. Betty Stevens, with many courtesies 
and much whispered advice, opened the door, and ushered 
Mr. Kestell into the sick man’s room. 

“ Mr. Button, here's a kind gentleman come to see you. 
The doctor said he wasn’t to speak much, sir; but a few 
words cheers a body up wonderful, 1 think, sir.” 

Mr. Kestell took no heed of the doctor’s orders, or, at 
all events, he did not apologize further than by saying: 

“ 1 merely wish to say a few words to the invalid. I 
shall not detain — 1 mean, I do not wish to tire him.” 

“ It’s Mr. Kestell,” said Joe Button, not being able to 
do more than turn his head round. “ Well, sir, that is 
kind of you; but, begging your pardon, sir, it’s d — ” 

“ Mr. Button, don’t swear, please. I’m truly sorry to 
see you in this difficulty. Why did you leave London?” 

“ Well, sir, being hard up, I thought — You see, 1 


196 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


lately talked to a young fellow, you know, called Vicary, 
and he said as how you were very kind. In fact, Fve 
come to live in the country.” 

“ Is that all?” 

64 Well, yes, sir. 1 thought the nearer I could be to you 
the better. When a poor devil has been a gentleman, as 
you might say, why, it's rather hard for him to find him- 
self near cleared out.” 

Mr. Kestell took a sovereign from his pocket. 

44 The company will pay all your expenses, I fancy; but 
take this for the present.” 

Joe reached out his right hand and took it. It was one 
of his left ribs that was broken. 

44 Don’t let yourself be robbed,” said Mr. Kestell. 
Then, correcting himself, he added: 44 1 only mean — of 
course — in these places — ” 

44 Don’t you fear, sir; I’m sharp enough. Besides, my 
property won’t tempt people. I was bringing down my 
old papers to show you, sir, and see if you could not do 
something for me. When a man’s been in better positions, 
it’s hard to come down to being as I am.” 

44 Through your own fault, Button, entirely your own 
fault. I found you living in a cottage, paying rent to — I 
forget now all the transactions; but your father sold the 
land, and then you felt hurt afterward that you did not 
know it was valauble.” 

44 It was my father’s obstinacy, sir. I was too young to 
make him listen to me. I said often that I fancied it might 
be valuable, but he was never for doing anything but drink; 
and so, being rather short of funds, he sold it to a gentle- 
man.” 

44 Land changes hands very quickly at times. You 
never saw the gentleman who was said to have bought it, 
did you, Button? I don’t think I have ever asked you be- 
fore; if 1 have, I have forgotten your answer.” 

The landlady’s footsteps were heard at this moment, and 
she coughed a little to make her near presence known. 
Joe Button glanced toward the door. He wanted to ask 
Mr. Kestell something more than about long-past trans- 
actions. 

44 Yes, sir, I remember his coming once, I think. He 
was a fine-looking gentleman; quite young and handsome. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 197 

The other day I was reminded of him by seeing some one 
like him. Is he alive, sir?” 

44 No. 1 told you before he was dead; but when I came 
into the property I did all I could for you. Button, feeling 
sorry for your small means; for, had you been able to keep 
your land, you would have been well off. But then, again, 
you would never have had capital enough to work it. Ah! 
here is your good nurse; I must go.” 

44 Wait a minute, sir; you say the company will pay up, 
don't you?” 

Mr. Kestell smiled at the landlady. 

44 Don't distress yourself about that; and in the mean- 
time, Mrs. Stevens, you can apply to me for anything that 
is necessary. Mind you, I don't mean to pay for your 
special luxury. Button. It would be bad for you — very 
bad. It might lead to fever, and 1 know not what other 
complications. No whisky. Button, eh? However, every- 
thing in reason 1 will advance, and trust to the company 
to repay me.” 

44 Well, sir, I'm sure that is speaking handsome; and 
you may trust me, sir. We care for our good name more 
than for anything else. I often says to my husband, Pd 
rather starve than serve out drink to a man as is already 
fuddled, sir. No, there's no one as can say our house isn't 
respectable; cheerful company, and just enough liquor to 
help a poor man's bread and cheese to go down easy, sir. 
That's our principles.” 

44 Very good, very good principles,” said Mr. Kestell. 
44 By the way. Button, you said yon had some papers you 
were bringing for my inspection. Perhaps I had better 
take them now.” 

Joe Button did not approve of this; but the gold sover- 
eign was firmly glued to his palm. It is difficult to refuse 
anything to the donor of gold. 

44 Well, sir, if you'll keep them safe for me, when I get 
up from this bed, why. I'll come round and claim them 
again. A man likes to have his papers to show, even if 
they're not worth much.” 

44 Of course, Button. Well, I think you can trust me. 
You can have them all back as soon as you like. 1 will see 
what can be done for you. Good-night. I hope you will 
soon be all right; and don't forget moderation.” 


198 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


Mr. Kestell lifted the black bag, and brought it to the 
bedside. 

44 Where shall 1 find them, Button?” 

The bag was not locked; the papers lay at the bottom — 
a good-sized parcel of yellow parchment, and aged letters, 
tied with red tape. 

44 1 know their number, sir,” said Button, suspicious, 
though he knew his papers were perfectly worthless. 44 IT1 
call round for them when Fm well.” 

Then the poor fellow, tired with the conversation and 
all he had gone through, turned his head round, and took 
no more notice of his visitor. 

Mr. Kestell spoke a few words to the landlady, a few 
more to the landlord, and then entered his carriage, still 
holding the old papers, and told the coachman to drive 
home. 

64 He once saw him,” he said to himself. 44 Well, there 
is no harm in that. Button was a lad himself; and these 
papers are worthless, utterly worthless; but I can feel for 
him. If his father had not sold that property, they might 
have been in a very different position. That is the way 
fate treats people. If he had lived, it would have been the 
same; most likely he would never have known. But it is 
strange that Button should turn up just now — very 
strange.” 


CHAPTER IV. 
amice's resolution. 

Amice had a strange liking for being alone in the big 
house at night. She had no fears of ghosts or apparitions, 
for the sisters had lived too free and healthy a life from 
childhood to have foolish fancies. She did not know her 
father had gone out, as, in all the excitement, Elva had 
not mentioned it; and she merely wished to remain up in 
case there was anything wanted for Hoel Fenner, so that 
Elva might have a good night's rest and feel easy. The 
morning-room was not so big and lonely as the drawing- 
room, and, having got a large white shawl to wrap round 
her, Amice began her vigil by slowly walking up and down 
to prevent herself getting sleepy. 

Jones knew she was here, and Symee, too; but Symee 
was not strong enough for watching; and Amice always 


KESTELL OP GREYSTOHE. 199 

considered other people before herself, especially she con- 
sidered Symee. 

As she paced to and fro, her mind reverted with painful 
distinctness to her father's conduct toward her. She even 
once pulled up her sleeve and looked at the mark to make 
quite sure that it had not all been a dream. Yet, surely, 
it must be fancy. He, so gentle, so loving toward Elva, and, 
usually, toward herself, what could she have done to anger 
him? She had merely asked about Jesse Vicary. Was that 
wrong? She remembered so clearly Jesse's face of agony in 
that lonely wood; she saw, as if still before her, the mute 
despair of the strong, noble-hearted man whose life she 
knew so much of from Symee. Some strong sorrow it 
must have been to have changed his whole expression and 
his ambition. It could not all have been caused by Symee's 
refusal to go and live with him. What, then, was it? 
Could it be anything wrong? Symee knew nothing of it 
certainly; but then she ought to know it. She ought to go 
and live with her only relation, and help him. 

Tired at last of walking. Amice sat down, and, after a 
time she folded her hands, and her eyes seemed to see noth- 
ing before them. The ardent spirit was, as it were, re- 
leased from its prison, and soared far away into a region 
where thought is untranslatable; and thus, for a short 
period. Amice was happy. 

She was roused from her dream by the sound of carriage 
wheels, and stood up suddenly, wondering what this could 
mean. Perhaps Mr. Fenner's uncle had heard of his acci- 
dent, and had come to see him; perhaps some one was 
soliciting help from them. She listened attentively; she 
knew Jones had not gone to bed; he would come down and 
open the door; but she must soon go out and see what help 
was wanted. Her dream had been so grand, so beautiful, 
it seemed almost pain to come back to every-day life. But 
Amice never paused or was turned back from her duty by 
common difficulties. 

Now she listened again. The bell sounded, and, strange, 
the carriage drove away. Not even yet imagining it could 
be the home carriage, Amice walked toward the door and 
opened it. She heard the hall door open, and Jones saying 
something she could not hear. 

46 Who could it be?" She felt a little shy. It might be 
a stranger. Very slowly she walked up the small passage 


200 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


leading to the central hall. She heard Jones actually walk- 
ing away again down the passage toward the servants’ hall. 
What had he done with the stranger? Amice paused again, 
and listened. She heard the study door shut, then open 
again, and then at last she recognized her father’s footstep. 
He crossed over to the drawing-room; and Amice trembled 
for fear he should come to the morning-room and find her 
there. 

44 I must tell him,” she thought, 44 why I stayed up. It 
is late. Where has he been? How strange.” 

She walked softly across the hall, and entered the study, 
for the door was wide open, and there were two caudles 
burning on the writing-table. Amice tried to feel brave. 
She was doing no harm; it was her duty to tell her father 
that she was sitting up. Standing there, she involuntarily 
cast her eyes on the table and noticed a large bundle of yel- 
low-looking papers lying on the blot ting-book; the writing 
was plain and lawyer-like, and it was easy enough to read: 

44 Copy of the title-deeds of the property known as West- 
acre Lands, now in the possession of John Pellew, Esq. 

44 January 18th, 18—. J. Button.” - 

44 Westacre Lands,” thought Amice. 44 That's papa’s 
property in the North. 1 thought he bought it of some 
poor people called Button. He often told us they felt them- 
selves injured about it, and that he had to pension off the 
son. This must have been a former owner.” 

Amice argued this out, not because she cared about the 
subject at all, but because she tried to employ her mind till 
her father should return; she was afraid he might be vexed 
at finging her still up; and yet her motives had been of the 
best; it was silly to fear. 

Then at last she heard her father’s footsteps again com- 
ing across from the drawing-room. He must have gone 
merely to fetch something. Suddenly he entered, and 
stood one moment transfixed at the sight — at Amice stand- 
ing there in a white shawl, as if she were an apparition, her 
immobility and her speechlessness giviug Mr. Kestell some 
cause to believe this was indeed but an appearance, an 
optical illusion; and it was Amice herself who broke the 
spell, wondering why her father stood there staring at her 
in such amazement. 

44 Papa, 1 did not know you were out; or that you were 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


201 


coming in so late. I stayed up to make Elva feel quite 
easy, in case Mr. Fenner should require anything. Now 
you are sitting up, perhaps I had better go to bed / 5 

Mr. Kestell had had time to recover his composure dur- 
ing her speech. There was nothing in it to find fault with; 
indeed, the kind thought and kind action were only what 
were to be expected from Amice. But, nevertheless, he 
felt, as most people do, extremely annoyed at having been 
startled. 

Amice, always Amice gliding about and looking at him. 
It was becoming unbearable. 

“ Next time, my dear, you make these arrangements, I 
prefer being told. I had to go to Greystone to see one of 
the poor sufferers of the accident whose presence was unex- 
pected.” 

“ Joseph Button was it, papa? Mr. Fenner told Elva 
about him. He is the son of the man you bought Westacre 
Lands from, isn't he?" 

Her eyes unconsciously reverted to the deeds. 

“ Ah, did he mention it to Fenner?” said Mr. Kestell, 
coming near his writing-table, and nervously placing his 
hand on the title-deeds, looking up as he did so at Amice. 
She glanced again toward her father, and then at the 
papers, then again at his face. What was the matter? She 
saw how strangely agitated he looked. Never before had 
she seen him look like this. His face said plainly: “ Have 
you looked at these?” But his lips did not utter any words. 

At this moment Amice felt the strange, terrible feeling 
come over her — the feeling she hoped not to experience 
again. The sight of the papers near to her made her visi- 
bly shudder. Her father's very presence caused her to 
shrink away from him, so that, without another word, she 
walked slowly away, resolved not to be tempted into say- 
ing what was on her lips; for quite clearly and quite dis- 
tinctly she saw the word “ guilt ” written on his face. 

And she was afraid to see more. 

Before now she had had the unknown dread and the un- 
explained shrinking, yet the cause Jhad never appeared; but 
during these first moments of agony it was not so much his 
guilt, whatever it might be, that she thought of, but, be- 
sides, she now recognized for a certainty that the children 
were punished for the fathers. What she called the curse, 
was, in truth, the punishment of the generations. If it 


202 


KESTELL OF GREYSTO^E. 


had to descend to the third and fourth, what would be the 
visitation on the first? 

Sobbing, as if she had committed a crime. Amice Kestell 
knelt near her bed and prayed for forgiveness, forgiveness 
for she knew not what, merely certain, for the first time 
in her life, that fair and prosperous as were the outward 
prospects of the Kestell family, they were walking over a 
flowery path beneath which a precipice was hidden. 

“ I must know, I must find out,” said Amice, aloud, 
“ there may yet be time for restitution. Why did 1 not 
have the courage to ask him then? It was a chance given 
me, and I was too cowardly to take it. Why must I know 
it — I, his child, or is it all some frightful temptation of the 
devil? Am 1 accusing my father of something which is 
merely a fancy of my own brain, and yet — ” Gradually 
the fever of her mind abated, and the peace of resignation 
came over her; but this was not before the morning light 
broke over the moorland. 

Another, and a very different, scene was taking place in 
the study. When Amice had gone — not stopping even to 
shut the door — Mr. Kestell stood quite motionless where he 
was. One hand was on the title-deeds, and his eyes were 
also fixed on the dirty parchments and papers. The gray 
hue on his features — which had so much startled Amice, 
and where she had read the word “ guilt ” — gave place to 
a cold perspiration, the effect of intense mental activity or 
suffering. His lips slightly opened, remained fixed, as did 
his eyes; only the candles flickered a little as the draught 
from the open door caught them. It might have been five 
minutes or more that Mr. Kestell of Greystone stood there. 
He knew not, and no one heeded:; but Nature’s great law 
of movement asserted itself after a time. Mechanically, 
Mr. Kestell lifted his hand from the papers, and, walk- 
ing slowly across the room, he shut the door. The sound 
of this did him good; he breathed more freely; but as he 
came back, he involuntarily remembered the scene with 
Jesse Vicary. It flashed vividly before his eyes, just as if 
it were being rehearsed again — Vicary was standing by the 
fire-place, insisting on knowing the truth. 

“He would have it,” murmured Mr. Kestell, feeling 
himself really alone, now that the door was shut. fc ‘ He 
would not let well alone, and those hot-headed fellows mis- 
take one so easily. 1 never said anything to wound him; 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOXE. 


203 


lie inferred everything so quickly. Perhaps I had better 
have let things take another turn; but I could not help it, 
he forced my hand.” 

Thus murmuring, as if the sound of his own voice were 
a relief to him, Mr. Kestell went to a great bureau placed 
in the corner of his study. The top part consisted of book- 
shelves covered by glass doors; below, there were three 
deep drawers. There was a key in the glass doors; but 
the drawers were not locked. If these contained secrets, 
then Mr. Kestell did not keep his secrets under lock and 
key. 

Mr. Kestell stooped down and took from the topmost 
drawer a large blue envelope, which lay, if not quite at the 
top, at all events, well within easy reach. 

Then, going back to his writing-table, he took out the 
contents of the envelope, and compared them with the 
papers procured from Button. There was a bundle of pri- 
vate letters, which he put on one side; then some title- 
deeds, and these he compared with Button’s dirty papers. 
Yes. word for word they were the same; and, in the flowery 
language of the law, they made over the property, known 
as Westacre Lands, to John Pellew, Esq., of Dungapore, 
Madras. To this document was added the original title- 
deeds of the Buttons, which enumerated the number of 
fields and their acreage. 

It took Mr. Kestell some time to go through these papers 
and compare them together. He found no flaw in the 
copies; indeed, he had not expected to find any; but all the 
same, his keen glance took as much care to detect one as 
if he had expected it. 

Was the wish father of the thought? 

“ I conclude the Buttons really owned these fields for 
many years; their title was quite good; otherwise, the 
whole transaction might have fallen to the ground. Pshaw! 
title-deeds are, after all, every day found imperfect. If the 
law were to meddle with half the deeds in England, how 
many could stand? John Pellew paid a very small sum for 
the land — four hundred pounds. Merely that; and now it 
is worth thousands; just because 1 had capital, and could 
work it. I paid more than the four hundred, if my bill 
were required of me. A man can not accuse his conscience 
of unfairness if he has had a chance to come upon valuable 
property in the way of ordinary business. I have never 


204 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


taken even a stick from a hedge without paying for it, 
never. ” 

This confession of probity seemed gradually to restore 
Mr. Kestell to a calmer frame of mind. He put up his 
own documents again into their cover, and replaced them 
in the drawer; then, tying up Button’s bundle, he inclosed 
all these papers in a large lawyer’s envelope, and addressed 
them to “ J. Button.” As he sealed it, however, Mr. 
Kestell thought: 

“ Perhaps, after all, that poor fellow will never call for 
them again.” 


CHAPTER V. 

A MAN’S HONOR. 

To be only a partial invalid, and yet to be made a great 
deal of, and to be considered very much of a hero is, even 
to the most modest and humble of individuals, by no 
means an unhappy state of affairs. Perhaps the feeling of 
the greatest unmixed felicity which can be experienced is 
to be a hero, and to be conscious at the same time of re- 
pudiating all attempts at flattery. The highest, or rather 
the essence of flattery is imbibed when we are openly re- 
jecting the proffered cup; indeed, it may not be altogether 
paradoxical to say that a very humble man does not reject 
admiration, because true humility is seldom conscious that 
praise is being offered. 

Hoel Fenner’s arm being imprisoned in splints, and sup- 
ported by a sling, made its owner a decidedly interesting 
mortal. There were the laurels of the hero round his 
head, and the myrtle- wreath of the lover on his handsome 
brows; and, as sometimes happens, the most Cassandra- 
like prophet could find nothing but blooming flowers for 
the present, and prospective buds for the future. 

Miss Heaton, who had quite a knack of discovering the 
canker in the rose, peered in vain into Hoel and Elva’s 
flowers to discover it, so she contented herself by saying to 
her brother: 

“ Of course, Herbert, though you are so much pleased 
about this engagement, I very much doubt if it will an- 
swer. Elva is such a willful young woman; she will never 
learn to obey, though, of course, now she is quite dazzled 
by the prospects of beooming a London lady.” 


KESTELTj oe greystohe. 


205 


Mr. Heaton was having his tea, and there was a quiet 
gravity on his face which his sister could not construe into 
words. Surely it could not possibly mean envy, or a doubt 
of his own supreme happiness under her kind care. 

“Elva Kestell looks very happy; I met her and Mr. 
Fenner to-day on the Beacon. It is very pretty to see her 
tenderness coming to the surface. ” 

“It won’t last! Girls are so ridiculous when they are 
engaged; they fancy every one is envying them, and think- 
ing of them.” 

“ I don’t think self-consciousness is Elva’s failing,” 
smiled the vicar, who, in his quiet way, was a keen ob- 
server. 

“ Well, perhaps not; she does not care enough for pub- 
lic opinion, and neither does her sister. By the way, Her- 
bert, I met that strange girl x\mice to-day, and she begged 
me to ask you if you could give her a few minutes’ con- 
versation soon. I do hope you will say you are too busy.” 

“ But I’m not too busy,” said the vicar, looking sur- 
prised. “ Why should 1 say so?” 

Miss Heaton coughed a little to give herself time to find 
the answer. 

“ Well, if you once begin a few minutes’ conversation 
with a girl like Amice Kestell, the minutes might grow 
into hours.” 

“ What, on the same day? That would be indeed 
serious,” the vicar laughed. 

“Really, Herbert, that is ridiculous of you! I mean 
there would be minutes’ conversation every day.” 

“ Miss Amice is not given to much speech; sometimes I 
can not get her to talk at all.” 

“That is her way, so that she may appear shy,” said 
Miss Heaton, mysteriously. 

“ Why should she want to appear shy?” 

“Really, men are so simple and short-sighted! Don’t 
you understand, Herbert, that Amice thinks you will be 
taken with those shy manners of hers, and all that cottage- 
visiting, and sitting up with old women. It all means the 
same thing.” 

“ I should say it meant a very kind heart.” 

“ Of course you would say so. A man is so easily taken 
in. Why, a blind bat would see further than you do. ” 


206 


KESTELL OE C4EETSTONE. 


Poor Herbert, lie felt that he was paying dearly for hav- 
ing been asked for a few minutes* conversation. 

44 When did she want to see me?’* 

“ After the Sunday-school; but I have asked Mr. Fenner 
and Elva to come in then. You really must not be rude 
to them.** 

44 No one is ever rude to lovers, my dear, except those 
who keep them from each other. Well, I must be off to 
night-school. I mean to try this year again, and, after 
that, if my roughs won*t appreciate their advantages they 
shall have no more of my pearls. By the way, you know 
Miss Grey can*t come this year, because of the walk back. 
She says it was too much for her last year, and yet she 
looks well enough.** 

Miss Heaton was, this time, very glad her brother was so 
simple. Miss Grey had lately become too attentive in the 
way of working slippers 44 for the dear vicar,** and she had 
had a delicate hint that he required no more worsted work. 

44 I expect her aunt wants her company at home. I only 
wish Amice had as careful a parent; but really Mrs. Kes- 
tell is quite a useless member of society, and never looks 
after her daughters.** 

44 1 rather imagine that there are no such creatures as 
useless members of society,** replied the vicar, thought- 
fully. 46 If one thinks of it seriously, every one is useful in 
some way or other. ** 

Miss Heaton gave up arguing, and took to herring-bon- 
ing flannel, for, when her feelings were ruffled, she gener- 
ally went to seek consolation in a flannel petticoat — an 
intimate friend — and even Herbert himself always tried to 
avoid saying much when she l^as engaged on flannel. 

Elva cared for none of these things at present, she was 
enjoying her young dream of happiness with the ardor 
which characterized her; and, happily for her, love had at 
once to be represented by action. All Hoel*s letters had to 
be written by her; and what discussions and plans did not 
this lead to? She had so little to tell him about the out- 
side world, and he had so much to tell her; though, of 
course, perfect candor is impossible between two beings 
who have to begin a new life of thought together. In the 
first place, there was all the truth about his uncle Mellish: 
the man whom the world looked upon as his father. Elva 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


207 


was prepared to like him. Curiosity about a set of new re- 
lations was quite natural; and Hoel expressed himself very 
properly concerning his uncle. But then, how could he 
explain to Elva that as she was an heiress, he was over- 
joyed at being able to tell his uncle, in a perfectly correct 
fashion, that he might keep or throw away his money as 
he liked. No; Eiva could not be told this; but, neverthe- 
less, HoePs secret satisfaction over this fact considerably 
heightened his happiness. It might be a very unworthy 
feeling; but it was there. 

Elva's sudden softness was also most gratifying to his 
manly feelings. If he had admired the independent, orig- 
inal-minded Elva Kestell, he loved her in a far more satis- 
factory manner now that the feminine element of tender- 
ness was so much more apparent. That desire for mastery 
in man has its great, as well as its little side; it springs 
from the wealth of his strength as well as the pride result- 
ant from that strength. It is caused by an earnest desire 
to protect something weaker than itself, in order that 
strength may be more fully realized. On the other hand, 
it is difficult to protect a person who fancies she does not 
need our protection: so that, in truth, the manlier a man 
is the more will he appreciate the opposite sex in its weak- 
ness, and not in its exhibition of independence. 

If now and then in their conversations Hoel suddenly 
discovered in Elva a trace of a finer nature than his own, 
he would not dwell on the discovery. When once she be- 
longed to him her being would be merged into his, and he 
was quite ready to share everything with his wife, because, 
as his wife, Elva would be a reflection of himself. How 
his heart beat when he saw more plainly every hour that he 
had been right in following his instinct. Love could drown 
free thought. In a wife it is better to have an echo than a 
second voice; and every one acknowledges that there is a 
strange fascination in echoes, for they enhance the interest 
of the original sound. 

The late autumn weather was very beautiful this year. 
Winter seemed unwilling to appear; even the leaves fell 
reluctantly from their parent stem. All along the road by 
the Four Pools the gorgeous coloring seemed to make 
spurious sunshine. The beeches were dazzling to look at; 
the oaks, too, with every shade of gold, russet, and brown, 


208 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


did their best to cheat autumn of its sorrow. To walk side 
by side with Hoel, sheltered from wind and all, even to 
pause and sit down on some bank of dry leaves, seemed to 
Elva a perfect foretaste of happiness. If now and then she 
found herself disagreeing with him, she was silent, or only 
half expressed her disagreement, for fear of marring all the 
harmony of the moment. Of one thing, however, they 
never spoke; and that was of Elva’s former attempts at 
writing a book. She even felt ashamed of the attempt; it 
was as if she had dishonored the profession of letters. 
Hoel, who was so clever, so keen a critic, was very good 
not to recur to the subject. So she thought when, side by 
side, they discussed books or talked of the future; but dur- 
ing some moments when he was not with her, a sudden 
wave of thought came over her that, bad as her book might 
have been in form, there were a few ideas worth something 
in it. Hoel had acknowledged as much. At such times 
Elva experienced the first feeling of the bondage of love; 
for there is nothing more difficult to human beings than to 
be perfectly true to themselves; the overpowering force of 
opinion, both public and private, undermines the true self. 
So crushing can the weight be, that, for the happiness of 
the individual, it is better to be ignorant of the fact; but 
the greater originality possessed by the unit the greater 
will be the power to recognize the overwhelming antagonism 
of the multitude to the individual. In this fact lies the 
danger to perfect happiness, even of wedded life; for few 
men, and fewer women, can realize that freedom is true 
happiness. Civilized as we are now in this marvelous age 
of ours, there are yet few who see that slavery is still 
rampant, the slavery of the mind; and by this we do not 
mean to touch old-world institutions or their honored cus- 
toms, or the best authority of parent or teacher, but a far 
more subtle slavery which, as in the case of Hoel, demands 
not submission in its vulgar sense, but submission of that 
heart of a human being which, if once subjected, lives ever 
in a restless state, knowing that it is not achieving its 
highest capabilities. 

And yet, as far as each of them knew* it, and as far as 
the world could see, this romance was very perfect and very 
bewitching. 

Close by the road, beyond the first Pool, the lovers sat 
this bright day on a great heap of fir poles. The wind sent 


KESTELL 0 E GRETSTOKE. 


m 


long-drawn-out and somewhat melancholy sighs through the 
pines, and the bracken waved its tiny answers to it. The 
fallen firs were reflected in the water. Every now and 
then Hoel himself came into the water-picture; and Elva 
watched his reflection with a smile on her face. A passer- 
by would have involuntarily admired the pair. 

They would have been struck by the intellectual refine- 
ment of the man’s face; but some wave of sympathy would 
have gone out toward Elva, who, in a dark-brown dress, 
and a hat surrounded with soft ostrich feathers, united 
strength and womanliness in a very marked degree. 

“ It is just a week, Hoel, since that horrid accident/’ 
said Elva, clasping her hands in front of her, and looking, 
not at Hoel, but at his reflection; “ to me it seems years, 
and yet we haven’t said half what we want to say; at least, 
I haven’t. You promised you would read your uncle’s let- 
ter to me. Shall I get it out of your pocket?” 

Elva smiled a little shyly. Shyness had come with love, 
and it made her doubly beautiful in Hoel’s eyes. 

46 My right hand still,” he said with an answering smile. 
“ First, I want to tell you about Uncle Mellish. I believe 
you know that he is very fond of me. He has been a father 
to me in many ways. On the other hand, I don’t think I 
am as fond of him as I ought to be.” 

6 ‘ I hope he will like me. Do you think he will? 1 am 
accustomed to old people. At least, papa may be old to 
some; but to me he always seems young.” 

“ Your father is devoted to you, Elva. When I see him 
looking at you, 1 know 1 have never had a father’s love. ” 

“ No one can pretend to be a father, can they? Mine is 
the best, dearest, noblest on earth. ” 

“ You are a very faithful friend, dear,” he said, taking 
her right hand in his left one, and kissing it. “ No one 
could call you a fickle woman.” 

‘‘No, I think not. 1 am glad you are not like most 
men, and talk nonsense about all women being fickle and 
all women being vain.*” 

“ You don’t believe in tradition then? 1 suppose all 
sayings are founded on truth; but all exceptions have a 
tendency to disbelieve in the rules.” 

“ I suppose men meet curious specimens of our sex which 
we poor country folk know nothing of. 1 wonder what is 


210 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


really the difference between a man and a woman apart 
from intellectual and physical strength?” 

Hoel thought a moment, and then said: 

“ I think it is a great dread of anything touching their 
honor — 1 mean, given a man of honor. 1 have known 
men do strangely ill-considered things when they fancied 
their personal honor was in jeopardy.” 

“ Would you?” 

“ I can’t imagine what would happen to me in that line; 
but still, I can so well understand the feelings that I con- 
clude 1 should not be an exception.” 

“ If I jilted you, for instance?” said Elva; and her whole 
face was illuminated by a smile which made Hoel consider 
her still more beautiful than he had previously imagined. 

“ Yes; if you did — 1 should never forgive you.” 

“ Really and truly?” 

“ Yes; but then, when I first loved you, 1 knew that was 
impossible to your nature.” 

“1 should always love you, whatever you did,” said 
Elva, in a low, passionate voice, which frightened Hoel for 
a moment, because it was the speech of the Elva he knew 
so little of and wished to know less. 

“ Did you ever fall in love before?” she went on, smil- 
ing, so that her last words were like an unnatural ruffling 
of calm waters. 

Hoel smiled. 

“ Never till 1 saw you. Once I admired a girl very 
much; but, you see, I can make the confession very 
calmly. ” 

“ You admired her very much, but did not fall in love. 
That is strange, isn’t it? Why was it?” 

“ In the first place, she was not a lady. Her father was 
a working farmer somewhere, and her mother a very 
homely body indeed. Still, I did not know that when I 
first saw her. She was a very clever girl, very pretty — a 
governess in a family I used to visit. The eldest son was a 
college friend of mine.” • t 

“ And you went there and admired the clever and pretty 
governess? I wonder if she admired you, and whether you 
paid her attentions? I sometimes think men who do that 
are answerable for a great many heartaches.” 

Hoel smiled at Elva’s earnestness. 

6 4 There was, 1 dare say, some imprudence on my part, 


KESTELL^ OE GREYSTONE. £11 

but 1 hope not much. In the first place, I knew before- 
hand Uncle Mellish would never give his consent. 1 did 
not mind much about that; but my means were then less 
than they are now, and my prospects not so good. 1 was 
never far gone enough to be unable to reason with myself.” 

44 Oh, then there was no fear of your being very much in 
love. If I loved, I should not reason at all — ” 

“A woman's argument. But, you see, men ought to 
reason. Anyhow, Elsie Warren could never have been my 
wife.” 

44 Elsie Warren; what a pretty name! But why, Hoel? 
Men have done all sorts of things for love.” 

66 Because I found out that her father had been, when 
quite a young man, imprisoned for a forgery. He yielded 
to a sudden temptation, and the poor fellow expiated his 
crime in prison. When he came out, he married, and was 
a very respectable member of society ever afterward. The 
story was but little known, and it was quite by chance that 
I found it out.” 

44 But poor Elsie Warren could not help that. Surely 
she was guiltless enough.” 

44 Oh, quite; a perfectly ideal woman — all golden hair 
and good feeling. But it was what I was telling you just 
now; I could no more have married that girl, even if I 
had loved her a thousand times more than 1 love you — 
which, remember, I did not — than I could have gone to 
Uncle Mellish, and asked him how much money he - was 
going to leave me!” 

44 How strange!” said Elva, letting go Hoel's hand, and 
gazing at the slow flight of a rook, 4fc how strange! Now, 
if I had been a man, I would have married Elsie Warren, 
because her father had been once disgraced; and I should 
have shown her that love can make up for everything. ” 

44 Would you? And, afterward, you would have repent- 
ed. Surely it were wiser to pause first. Think of that 
black secret between a man and his wife always there; and 
if he were of a suspicious nature he would have said' she 
may deceive me as her father deceived his own father, for 
he forged his father's name. There might be even a life- 
long dread that his children might inherit crime. No, a 
thousand times no!” 

44 Oh, but love is so merciful,” said Elva, starting up in 
her excitement. 44 Hoel, you talk like this just because 


212 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


you did not love that girl, and so it is all right. But I 
know you better. If you had loved her, all those future 
and past reasonings would have disappeared; you would 
have acted as you did last Saturday. You would have 
said, 4 Let me suffer, only let me keep suffering away from 
others/ I know you would. If I had been a man, I would 
have gone to her, and said — " 

44 Said what, Elva?" answered Hoel, now rising and put- 
ting Elva's right hand in his left arm. This was just a 
case in which he preferred Elva's agreeing with him. 

4 4 That we are not sent into the world to visit the sins of 
the fathers upon the children. " 

44 But 1 am not sure that I should then have been speak- 
ing the truth. Man is made a judge over his fellows, other- 
wise, how would society get on at all? From the times of 
the patriarchs to the days of constitutional government, we 
can follow the progress of human law, or, as some would 
say, the Divine will, carried out by the human instrument . 99 

The two walked on in silence a little while. Elva was 
turning her thoughts over, unable to express what she felt, 
till at last Hoel, feeling she was wandering a little from 
the center round which he liked her best to circle, re- 
marked: 

4 4 A woman's love, darling, is the grandest and the best 
thing on earth; but she must not always expect her judg- 
ment to be the same. Anyhow, on the score of honor, you 
and 1 shall always be at one. If you are lenient in thought, 
you would be stern in principle." 

44 1 am afraid you would always bring me round to your 
view. against my will," said Elva; and Hoel, with a sudden 
wave of love, admiration, and entire agreement with her 
last speech, sealed it with a kiss. And then, when they 
had reached another secluded spot, he took a small volume 
from his pocket and read out a poem he had brought to dis- 
cuss with his betrothed. It was 44 The Palace of Art," 
which, it so happened, Elva did not know well. Hoel read 
beautifully; it was a pleasure to listen to him, and Elva's 
whole soul seemed to lie in the placid depth of her gray 
eyes as he finished : 

“ Yet pull not down my palace towers that are 
So lightly, beautifully built; 

Perchance I may return with others there. 

When I have purged my guilt.’ ’ 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 213 

44 1 suppose/’ said Elva, 44 1 have built my palace of 
art now; but 1 do not wish to leave it.” 

And Hoel was not insensible to this exquisite flattery; 
exquisite because it came from true lips. Was it possible 
for a man not to feel elated by it? Not certainly for a 
man like Hoel, who was clever enough to know truth that 
was veiled in humility. Love and life were beautiful to 
both to-day, and worthy to be sung by poets. 


CHAPTER VI. 

RESTITUTION OF ALL THINGS. 

Jesse Vicyry’s name had not yet been mentioned at 
Rushbrook since Hoel had been in the house. He seemed 
hardly worth wasting time over when so many much more 
delightful topics were always at hand. Hoel’s arm was 
going on as well as possible. He had leave of absence from 
the editor of 44 The Current Reader,” and he felt he had 
honestly earned a holiday. The letter from his uncle, 
which he had forgotten to show Elva, and which he was 
not particularly anxious to show her, had given him secret 
pleasure. He saw plainly his uncle was nettled; that he 
recognized that the marriage he was going to make, if not 
likely to enrich him much in the actual present, yet certain- 
ly placed the future in a golden light. No need of any 
more 44 ifs ” from his uncle. 

The next day, which was Sunday, Hoel amused himself 
by sitting in an easy-chair by a large fire in the drawing- 
room, and rereading his uncle’s epistle. Elva was busy 
with various small duties, and had volunteered to take a 
class in the place of Miss Grey, who was beginning to think 
she had worked very long without reward, and that if the 
vicar did not soon declare his intentions, he must take the 
consequences, in the shape of the loss of a teacher, a pair 
of worked slippers, and one less at the daily morning serv- 
ice, etc., etc. 

All this reasoning was, however, imprisoned in Miss 
Grey’s heart; nothing was known of it but a sad little note 
addressed to Mr. Heaton, which spoke of a heavy cold and 
the anxieties of her aunt, who had seen the doctor shake 
his head during his last visit to herself. This had led Miss 
Heaton to remark: 

44 Really, Herbert, what nonsense! Old Miss Grey is so 


214 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


silly. Doctors always shake their heads; they learn that 
sort of thing when they take their first practice. Miss 
Jane Grey is as strong as a horse, and she writes to you be- 
cause she knows you are so tender-hearted. Whatever you 
do, don’t answer the note. 1 will write to Elva Kestell. 
She is doing nothing but spoon about with Hoel Fenner. 
Lovers do annoy me so much, 1 am quite glad to separate 
them.” 

“ Wait till you are in that happy state yourself, Clara,” 
said the vicar, smiling. “ However, if Miss Kestell will 
take the class, I shall be much obliged to her.” 

And Elva, in the fullness of her new joy, had said 
“Yes.” Joy had a softening influence on her. She 
wanted to learn to do all the things Hoel approved of, and 
she had heard him admire Amice’s self-devotion to her 
poor neighbors; so she hoped to imitate her. 

“ You would hardly know Elva,” her mother said to 
Mr. Kestell. “I never thought she would give up her 
own will like that. They will be very tiresome lovers.” 
All the same, Mrs. Kestell looked ten years younger, and 
was a great deal more among the home circle. She even 
found energy enough to scold Amice for going about as if 
she were dreaming, and asked Hoel to see if he could not 
reform her. Hoel was so clever at knowing the peerage, 
that he won his future mother-in-law’s heart; her only 
complaint of him was that lie could not be found in De- 
brett. 

Hoel was much interested to find himself for the first 
time in his life one of a family circle. It was a novel situ- 
ation for him, and he noticed many things which a young 
man accustomed to a home-life would have overlooked. 
Even at this moment, while he waited for Mr. Kestell to 
fetch him for a stroll before the carriage came round, he 
wondered why it was that, during all this week, he had not 
in the least advanced in intimacy with Amice. He did 
not know her or understand her better than on the first 
Sunday he had seen her. He did not like to have his 
penetration baffled. "Never before had he looked at a hu- 
man face and read nothing on it which he could under- 
stand. Good and devoted she was certainly, but what was 
her motive? Was she in love with Herbert Heaton? A 
hopeless attachment? No. If there were any understand- 
ing between them, Elva would have told him about it. 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


215 


What could make a girl with wealth, position, and 
everything that heart could desire, dress somewhat dowdily, 
visit the poor, and altogether act like no other young lady 
of his acquaintance? Elva seemed to take her sister’s con- 
duct as a matter of course. Perhaps it was only his igno- 
rance of family life. Hoel was always careful never to 
show ignorance on any subject; and, in truth, he had but 
little to hide. No, he gave up this puzzle, and reread 
Uncle Mellish’s letter. It ran thus: 

“ My dear Hoel, — 1 must thank you for your tele- 
gram sent Sunday morning, which informed me of your 
safety, before I knew, indeed, that there had been any 
accident, as I do not see an evening paper. Let me con- 
gratulate you on having sustained merely a slight injury. 
I hope the company will pay your doctor’s bill, as in duty 
bound. And now, my dear Iioel, what shall I say about 
your next piece of news? It was most unexpected, and I 
have not yet considered it in all its bearings. Till I have 
seen the young lady in question, I can not say whether you 
are as fortunate as your lover-like sentiments would lead 
me to expect, lovers’ praises being proverbially blind. 
What 3 r ou say of the lady’s fortune looks well on paper; 
but you must not think me unfeeling if I waive my re- 
marks till I have found out all particulars from independ- 
ent sources. I have heard from an acquaintance that Kes- 
tell of Greystone was considered to be a very wealthy man, 
as he owns some valuable mining property in the North; 
but, of course, all this wants confirmation. And, suc- 
cessful as you have been, the small fortune left you by 
your father will, I fear, not satisfy the requirements of a 
wife brought up in the lap of luxury. I wish I were able 
to travel. I could then come and talk matters over with 
•you. As this is out of the question, I hope, my dear Hoel, 
you will soon be able to come to me, when 1 shall be glad 
to satisfy myself that you are not committing an impru- 
dence for want of sound advice. Always your affectionate 
uncle, 

“Mellish Fenner.” 

“ Good heavens! 1 hope 1 shall never be so calculat- 
ing,” thought Hoel, folding up the letter with an im- 
patient movement. He wants me to go to him and say* 


2 16 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


‘ Uncle, I can’t marry without your help. You have 
hinted that 1 am to be your heir. What will you do for 
me now?’ No! if I had to beg for my next meal, nothing 
could induce me to do this. I should like to know what 
enjoyment the old man gets out of his hoarded gold? 
Patronage must be wonderful balm to the shriveled mind 
if he can carry his folly as far as this. My choice has dis- 
pleased my uncle just because it is not imprudent. 1 verily 
believe he has been waiting for the time when I should fall 
in love in some foolish fashion with a penniless beauty, to 
come down with his advice and his offer of help. Merciful 
heavens! what a trap 1 have escaped! Elsie Warren would 
have been just the occasion for Uncle Mellish’s mise en 
scene . The old fellow has the dramatic element in his 
character; wants to come in as the Deus ex macliind, in 
the third act, and say: 6 Bless you, my children, if you are 
good I will give you jam to put on your bread and butter.’ 
Upon my word I do feel glad, and sorry at the same time — 
sorry the poor old man has missed his great opportunity. 
Even now I shudder to think I might have had to eat a 
large slice of humble pie; but no, no, that surely would 
have been impossible. I, Iloel Fenner, have also my 
rightful pride. Ah, Uncle Mellish, you can put a child in 
the corner, but you can not make him say he is sorry, or 
good, just when you choose. I have carefully avoided go- 
ing into that corner, and it is this which upsets all your 
calculations. 1 can afford to be generous, being the win- 
ner in the race, and I will take Elva down to see him on 
the first opportunity. Even my uncle’s deep-laid plans 
and minute strategical movements will melt before her per- 
fectly simple mind. It is no use preparing a campaign 
when the enemy has no intention of moving out of camp. 
The worst was that my uncle knew I was aware of his 
ideas, and delighted in that knowledge. Freedom, in my 
case, has had no drawbacks in the buying. Elva little 
knows that she has given me even more than a noble wom- 
an, and I do not want her to know it. A woman’s mind 
should be onefold. It’s bad enough to know a scheming 
man; but a woman! Heaven defend the poor fellow who 
marries one.” 

Such a mental soliloquy put Iloel into a perfect state of 
mind this Sunday morning. He could even have faced a 
sermon from a Scotch minister going up to “ tenthly;” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


217 


much more then could he hear with equanimity and ]3erfect 
composure the drive with Mr. Kestell and Elva to the 
pretty church in the fir wood, surrounded by so many ex- 
quisite views. 

Elva returned from her class with every feature beaming 
with happiness. Hoel met her on the bridge, and for a 
moment they joined hands, leaned over, and gazed at the 
water which every day seemed to show them a new picture 
of happiness. 

46 Hoel, I am sure I can not be meant to teach country 
children,” she said, smiling. 44 1 was thinking of you all 
the time, and I let them make mistakes, I believe, because 
I caught Amice looking at me with much surprise. I won- 
der how it was Amice grew up so good. She was born 
good, I believe. When we were girls together, she never 
disobeyed the governess or did other evil things for which 
I was often punished.” 

44 1 wonder she has not taken the veil, or its English 
equivalent. ” 

44 Amice wants to work in the poor parts of London— 
that is her ambition; but do not mention it. She is so shy. 
By the way, I met George Guthrie, and he is coming in to 
dinner this evening. lie means to tease me about — being 
engaged. He is so glad that he foresaw it; but I tell him 
it is not true, because I don’t believe I should have cared 
for you really, Hoel, if it had not been for that accident.” 

44 You wanted a hero, and you won’t believe that lam 
no such thing.” 

44 You are more of a hero because you don’t know it,” 
said Elva, falling into the error of a young and generous 
mind. 

44 Well, 1 shall be a hero to the best and sweetest wife 
in the land; that is all 1 care about, and more than I de- 
serve. Look at that ripple, Elva, it parts our reflection, 
and makes you appear far off instead of near to me.” 

44 1 hope when you are as old as papa you will love me 
as much as he does his wife. It is so pathetic to see love 
between old people. Do you know, Hoel, that all his life, 
since he married, I believe his first thought has been for 
her. I sometimes wish I could have seen that courtship.” 

Hoel could not sympathize much with Mr. Kestell’s ad- 
miration for the invalid fine lady whose words showed no 
great elevation of thought. 


218 


KESTELL OE GEEYSTOXE. 


44 The constancy of man/ 5 he smiled in answer. 

44 Yes, that first made me understand that there was 
something divine in love. Now 1 see the carriage coming 
round. You must not mind Mr. Heaton being a little 
dull. You know, Hoel, we can not get your grand Lon- 
don preachers here.” 

As we have said, Hoel was in a state *to be pleased with 
everything. He even spoke cordially to Miss ideaton be- 
fore the service, when she offered congratulations in a tone 
which meant: 44 I am sorry for you.” 

44 1 am very glad Elva will have some one to guide her 
taste/’ she said, not being able to hope much from Hoel’s 
religious influence; 44 but I am afraid, Elva, that your fa- 
ther, who does not look at all well, may miss you sadly.” 

Mr. Kestell had gone into church, and Elva felt a pang 
when she remembered that she had not asked him about 
himself this morning. Miss Heaton always said something 
to make one feel uncomfortable. She had a talent for 
this. 

44 We shall have to follow the fashion, I fear,” answered 
Hoel, gravely. 44 It is public opinion that settles personal 
taste, and really it saves a good deal of trouble.” 

44 1 believe there is a very bad tone now in the artistic 
and literary circles in London,” said Miss Heaton, in a sad 
and much shocked voice. 

44 Yes, I fear there is. They admire all ugly shades of 
yellow, a color to which 1 have a great dislike.” 

44 1 meant morally, Mr. Fenner. The laxity of religious 
opinion in town is very sad. One can not feel too thank- 
ful that Herbert refused a London living, though, of 
course, we should have tried, even there, to impress a 
higher ideal on those about us.” 

44 1 am sure you would have succeeded,” said Hoel, 
gravely. 44 A little leaven, you know. Miss Heaton, has 
powerful effects.” 

44 Hoel, it is time to go in,” said Elva, and Hoel fol- 
lowed his betrothed, feeling thankful that she, at least, had 
resisted Miss Heaton’s influence. 

Mr. Heaton’s sermon was not very long, and did not 
weary his listeners. He reminded his congregation that 
the year was dying, and before the last hours of it had 
come, before it was too late, he begged them to render to 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 219 

Caesar the things which are Csesar’s, and to God that which 
belongs to Him. 

“Restitution of all things, my friends, is a grand con- 
ception, the restitution of everything that we have taken 
from others all our life long. Not to this congregation 
shall I speak of stolen goods, none of us have had this 
temptation; but how many of us have stolen from our 
neighbor things which can not be returned! A good 
name, perhaps, a virtue which was theirs, and which our 
temper has ruined, an original thought, and basely called 
it ours; or their time, and thought nothing of. it; their 
love, and have carelessly lost it. The thief on the cross 
does not represent the criminal class alone, my friends; 
but every one of us who in this world — a world which God 
made and filled with gifts — have labored, and only en- 
riched the earth by theft. 

“ But restitution is promised, and in our ignorance we 
ask Heaven, 6 How is this possible? Take all that I have, 
and yet it will not suffice to restore to man what I have 
taken from him; then how shall 1 restore to God?* 

“ My friends, my parishioners, my little children, begin 
the divine work yourselves; begin to-day the work of 
restitution. Do not wait till the warfare is accomplished; 
restore the beauty you have taken; restore the kind word 
you hid, and if it leaves you poor, what matters? Christ 
was poor. What is temporal poverty but great riches; what 
is earthly loss but great gain? You will have love in your 
hearts, and you will have begun the kingdom of God upon 
earth, which is the restitution of all things.” 

There was one person in that little country church whose 
blue eyes, fixed on Herbert Heaton’s face, took his words 
to her heart. Amice, seated among the school-children, 
seemed lost to all but the simple words, which, spoken 
from the man’s heart, were therefore so powerful. Slowly 
her eyes turned from Herbert’s pulpit to her father’s pew, 
where, seated near to Hoel and Elva, the old man bent 
forward in a listening attitude. 

“ If he can listen and not show any emotion,” thought 
poor Amice, “ 1 shall know that it is my own foolish mind. 
Is my idea evil, or a warning? Have we somehow failed 
toward Jesse Vicary, or toward any one, and do we owe 


220 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


restitution? I am willing to make it. I can give up every- 
thing I possess. ” 

Amice’s gaze was so direct, so penetrating, that, though 
Mr. Kestell looked only at the preacher, he became gradu- 
ally conscious of it. Without moving his head he knew as 
well as if he could see her, that his younger daughter’s 
blue, strange eyes were fixed on him. All the more reason 
for not moving a muscle. Every nerve was strained in 
order to accomplish the task, by no means easy, if any one 
has tried it, for there is a mesmeric power in all eyes. In 
some, a very strong power that compels us to obey their 
commands, or else employ an antagonistic force against it. 

Mr. Kestell never moved, and Herbert’s short sermon 
drew to a close. Now it was over; there was a stir every- 
where; and each person rose. Mr. Kestell also pushed 
away his hassock and stood up. Some one must have got 
between him and Amice, he argued, and, forgetting him- 
self, his. eyes gradually turned toward her corner. No, 
there were those terrible eyes, that maddening look. It 
was enough to — to — His hand trembled, and the prayer- 
book he held fell to the ground. 

“Another Sunday,” thought Mr. Kestell, “either 
Amice or I will go to the Beacon Church.” 

“ Elva, I shall walk home,” said Amice, softly, after 
service. “ Don’t wait for me.” 

And then the girl disappeared into the wood at the back 
of the church. 

A little later the young vicar, coming out of the vestry, 
saw Amice Kestell waiting for him. He remembered all 
his sister’s warning about the few minutes’ conversation, 
but he felt glad that Amice had chosen a moment when no 
one was likely to hinder him. 

“ Ah, you wanted to see me. Miss Amice! I had not 
forgotten. Shall we walk down the avenue? It is quite 
quiet there. ” 

He was so much accustomed to seeing Amice’s strange 
blue eyes that, being simple-hearted, and not very easily 
impressed, he was not aware of any peculiarity in them; 
he believed in her goodness, that was all. This he had 
often proved. 

Amice turned toward the avenue without answering, and 
Herbert Heaton walked beside her, waiting a few moments 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 221 

for her to begin the conversation, till, fancying she wanted 
encouragement, he said: 

“ What were you wanting me for. Miss Amice? How 
can I help you?” 

‘ 4 Just now,” she said, “you were preaching about 
restitution. Do you mean all you said — I mean, how is 
it possible to begin now, this very minute? Tell me.” 

“ That depends on what kind of restitution you mean. 
If we have pulled down, we must build up again, brick by 
brick. It is not easy.” 

He was thinking of minute thefts of thoughts and words; 
he left out deeds. 

“ You know Jesse Yicary? His sister is with us; we 
have stolen her from him. How shall we restore her? 
Can you understand? We have from childhood protected 
her from outside influence; we have accustomed her to be- 
ing sheltered till now she can not face difficulties; in fact, 
we have enslaved her.” 

“ My dear Miss Amice,” said the vicar, startled by this 
way of reproducing his sermon, “ you are going a little be- 
yond my meaning. 1 think Symee Yicary is a good and 
faithful servant, and surely she is safer with you than 
roughing it with her brother. Are you not exaggerating 
my meaning?” 

“No, I think not. We have no right to keep Symee 
because she is useful to us. . Think how much happier she 
will be in London, in all that poor district, able to see 
misery around her, and to help to do away with some of 
it; she will have to pinch, and to save. She will be stinted, 
perhaps, but then she will be helping her brother, helping 
to make his life less lonely. He is so good, you know, and 
he wants her; but we have persuaded her to stay with us 
at Eushbrook. ” 

“ 4 We * can not mean you. Miss Amice; if you think 
the life you have just sketched out is so beautiful, then you 
can hardly have wished to have kept her from it. But if 
some other members of your family have not thought the 
same, I can hardly blame them.” 

He smiled so kindly, that Amice could not help looking 
up and giving him an answering smile in return. 

“ You do not understand. 1 do think that sort of life 
far happier than ours. We have so much money, it is 
even impossible to be charitable; we can not miss what we 


222 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


give. But about Symee? May I persuade her to go? 1 
think 1 can. But I shall be acting in direct opposition to 
all the others. ” 

“ That is, then, your question? Oh! now I see your 
meaning. And, really, it seems hardly a question 1 can 
decide.” • 

44 And yet you said so just now. We have stolen Symee, 
and you will not say you think it right to restore her.” 

Herbert Heaton was a good deal perplexed by this curi- 
ous interpretation of his words. He hardly liked to agree 
or to disagree without knowing more; there was a difficulty 
in either decision. Suddenly a bright idea struck him. 

44 Shall I have a talk with her brother, when next I go 
up to town, and see what he says?” 

44 How soon shall you be going?” said the girl, looking 
up at him earnestly. 

44 Before Christmas, I believe; I want to choose books 
for our prizes.” 

44 That is a long time to wait.” 

66 Are you not in danger of exaggerating the importance 
of your own ideas. Miss Amice?” said Herbert, gently. 
44 Symee Yicary must be very safe and very happy with 
you, and poor Yicary has to fight the hard battle of life. 
Are we sure that it is well to make his sister share it? 
^Now, I promise you I will go and see him, and from his 
answer we shall be able to judge what is right. ” 

Amice breathed a little sigh of relief. 

44 Thank you, very much,” she said, pausing, now they 
had got to the gate which led out upon the open forest 
land, and from whence they could see the chimneys of 
Bushbrook House, 4 4 thank you, you are very good and 
kind; sometimes the weight of — our responsibility seems 
very heavy, and I have no one 1 can speak to about it. I 
suppose clergymen ought to help us, and yet they seem so 
far off from rich people.” 

Herbert Heaton^s face looked troubled. Without know- 
ing it. Amice had touched a sore point in his own con- 
science. 

44 That is true, and yet I have often tried to see how one 
could be more of a shepherd to all the sheep. You hardly 
understand the difficulty. Miss Amice; the rich would be 
the first to reject our help, they would call it interfering 
with their freedom, and I know not what else.” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


22 3 


44 I don't think so, and if there are some like myself, 
then they must often long for spiritual help. Think of 
the way we are weighted with gold. That is our curse, I 
know it is; doesn't the Bible say, 4 IIow hardly shall they 
that have riches enter the kingdom/ and yet we are treated 
as if our way to heaven were quite plain and easy, and we 
required no one to help us. " 

4 6 But you can very easily ask for the help. You forget 
that. " 

At that moment Miss Heaton's prim, severe figure was 
seen hurrying down the avenue toward them. What she 
had long dreaded was before her. Herbert and that 
strange girl, Amice Kestell, were actually talking alone to- 
gether. It was dreadful, shocking, and she had, of course, 
chosen this time, when no one was about and every one 
had gone home. Happily for Herbert, his sister's watch- 
ful eyes had discovered that he had not come in, and she 
had, therefore, gone after him. The supposed culprits 
waited in silence for her approach — the silence of guilt, 
thought Miss Heaton. Had she not foreseen what a few 
minutes' conversation meant? 

“ Herbert, if you do not come in now, you will be late 
for luncheon," she said; 44 and you know you have to go 
to that class," 

Amice seemed hardly to hear the austere lady's words; 
but she understood she had done wrong, and opening the 
wicket, passed out in silence. 

“ Miss Amice," said the vicar, “ I shall be very glad to 
do as you suggested. Pray do not forget that." 

44 Thank you," said Amice/ as she hurried away. 

The vicar retraced his steps to the vicarage in silence; 
but he did hear his sister's remark: 

44 That girl is extremely deep, Herbert, in spite of her 
innocent eyes and her shy ways. Mrs. Eagle Bennison 
told me only yesterday she couldn't make her out. " 

44 She is very good," said Herbert, and Miss Heaton 
thought it best to mourn in silence. 

44 But I shall watch," she said. 


f 


224 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

WHO IS JOHN PELLEW? 

This Sunday evening at Ruslibrook was an especially 
cheerful one. Mrs. Kestell was enjoying the novelty of 
having an attentive son. Elva was sitting near her father, 
glad to see him smile at the attacks made upon her by 
George Guthrie; and this excellent bachelor was amusing 
himself by watching the little attempts at private talk in 
which Hoel and Elva indulged. There was a combined 
hunt for some music, and the search for a book Mr. Kes- 
tell asked for; and all these little scenes — the sign of hap- 
piness in lovers — were, of course, so much ammunition for 
his small shots. 

“ Now, Fenner, you must agree that a railway accident 
is a most convenient pleader for a lover, ” said George 
Guthrie, after dinner, as they sat round the fire. “ If 1 
had happened to be in your place on that eventful Satur- 
day, I have not the smallest doubt that the fair Elva would 
have turned her affectionate heart toward me. Have we 
not teased each other, which is equivalent to love, from our 
earliest infancy?” 

“ Your infancy!” said Elva, laughing. “I don^t re- 
member it.” 

“On the contrary, 1 am still in infancy. My cousin, 
Mrs. Eagle Bennison, says I am still a child; and this I 
consider is a compliment delicately veiled in metaphor. 
Does it not mean the most bewitching simplicity? Do not 
all mammas treat me in the most confiding, touching man- 
ner; would they not trust me with their choicest buds and 
their tenderest blossoms?” 

“ Well, certainly, you are very safe, George,” said Mrs. 
Kestell, smiling; “ because every one knows you are a con- 
firmed bachelor. Mrs. Pigot said so only the other day. 
It is so convenient to have unattached men at hand.” 

“ Yes; there it is again. A confirmed bachelor! 1 have 
heard that phrase a hundred thousand times; and yet 1 
feel in my manly bosom the — How shall I put it, Fen- 
ner?” 

“ Put it delicately, please,” said Hoel, “ in the presence 
of these lovers.” 


KESTELL OF G It EY STOKE. 


225 


u Truthfully, I should say,” added Mr. Kestell, 44 to the 
best of my belief, George, you have never been in love; 
and, strange to say, I have qever heard you even accused 
of such a crime!” 

44 Now, quiet Amice, you are the youngest in this room. 
Out of the mouths of babes let us hear truth. Have I, or 
have I not, shown the signs of a long-standing malady 
called love?” 

Amice’s blue eyes looked gravely into his face, and every 
one, except her father, laughed at her earnestness. 

44 Yes, I think you did once love some one, or you could 
not pretend to be so heart-whole.” 

44 Unrighteous judge!” cried George, laughing, and only 
Amice noted that the faintest shade of color rose to his 
cheeks. 44 Hear her, ye witnesses! Now Elva, what say 
you?” 

44 That you certainly know nothing about it, and had 
much better let the subject alone.” 

44 Then you won’t hear the 4 Poem of a Bachelor,’ which 
I wrote out during the small hours of the morning? Think 
of this sleepless activity, Fenner, and envy me! I dare 
say, now, not an idea comes to you in sleep!” 

44 Let us hear your verses,” said Mr. Kestell, stroking 
Elva’s soft hair. When near to her, his face always bright- 
ened up, as if her very touch gave him comfort and 
strength. 

44 The title is, 4 A Heart to be Let.’ Mrs. Kestell, have 
I your permission to recite these lines, which, I assure you, 
are admirable?” 

44 Certainly. When 1 was young 1 knew a man who 
was very clever at impromptu. You had only to give him 
the subject, and he gave you the verses.” , 

44 But, dear mamma, don’t believe in George’s im- 
promptu. If it is his own, he has been years writing it; 
but most likely it is only an adopted child,” said Elva, 
laughing so happily that the merriment was catching. 

44 Some adopted children know not the difference. It is 
all humbug about recognizing the affinity of next of kin — 
poetic nonsense. Humph! Listen, lords and ladies gay: 

“ * To be let. at a very desirable rate, 

A snug lit tie home in a healthy state, 

’Tis a Bachelor’s heart, and the agent is Chance, 
Affection the Bent — to be paid in advance. 

8 


KESTELL OE G LEY STOKE. 


226 


The owner, as yet, has lived in it alone, 

So the fixtures are not of much value; but soon 
’Twill be furnished by Cupid himself, if a wife 
Take a lease for the term of her natural life. 

Then, ladies, dear ladies, pray do not forget, 

An excellent Bachelor’s heart to be let! 

The Tenant will have few taxes to pay, 

Love, honor, and (heaviest item) obey. 

As for the “ Good-will,” the subscriber’s inclined 
To have that, if agreeable, settled in kind; 

Indeed, if he could such a matter arrange, 

Provided true title by prudence be shown, 

Any heart unincumbered and free as his own 
So ladies, dear ladies, do not forget, 

An excellent Bachelor’s heart to be let!’ 

Now what do you think of my poem? Is it not pithy, and 
much to the point?” 

44 I should like you to prove your title to it first,” said 
Elva. 4 6 Hoel, do you believe it is his?” 

44 1 hope not,” said Hoel. 44 1 shall have to say as did 
our chief editor once to a conceited poet: 4 Sir, your verses 
show no promise of future fame; so, for the present, they 
are worthless/ ” 

44 Talleyrand did it better,” said George. 44 Do you re- 
member, Fenner, the poor, poor poet who was reciting his 
own verses to the great wit? Talleyrand, perceiving a 
man yawning a little way off, said, pointing him out 
politely to the reciter: 4 Not so loud, dear sir; he hears 
you/ ” 

Hoel had forgotten the story, which made every one 
laugh. Certainly, George Guthrie was a very mine of 
good stories, which before now Elva had been heard to de- 
clare he invented. 

44 Your cousin must never find the house dull when you 
are in it,” said Mrs. Kestell. 44 Has she many societies 
now to look after?” 

44 The Taps at present reign supreme. Actually Miss 
Heaton has made friends with the squire’s wife on this 
subject. By the way, Elva, this lady much disapproves 
of your engagement; and I did not soften the matter by 
suggesting she should follow your example. Imagine, Mr. 
Kestell, the brave man who would lead Miss Heaton to 
the altar?” 

44 Isn’t it a chance for the bachelor?” said Hoel. 

44 Well, so I thought this morning after service; and as 


KESTELL OF GREYSTQNE. 


227 


I walked a little way with her 1 quoted worthy Samuel to 
her — in vain. She cast only reproachful glances upon me, 
and said she was going to look for Herbert. What an eye 
she keeps upon him!” 

“ George, how ridiculous you are! What did you say?” 
said Elva. 

64 My dear Elva, it was only the second part of a poem. 
1 left out the prologue, which I considered a little too 
moral. I dare say none of you study Samuel Johnson as 
I do. I walk on the ancient paths, and leave Browning 
for the modern Hoel Fenners.” 

“ And pray what was the second part?” said Mr. Kes- 
telL 

“ * Ladies, stock and tend your hive, 

Trifle not at thirty-five; 

For howe’er we boast and strive, 

Life declines from thirty-five. 

He that ever hopes to thrive, 

Must begin by thirty-five; 

And all who wisely wish to wive, 

Must play for Heat-on thirty-five. > 

I only altered the last line, which you see is a little lame. 
I had ideas of working out the motive of Thrale. Indeed, 
I might have turned it into Thralldom, but feared to 
offend. You know even Samuel made puns in his mo- 
ments of relaxation.” 

“I don't wonder Miss Heaton scorned you; really, 

George, you are incorrigible! Miss Heaton already thinks 
that Amice and myself are bad specimens of modern edu- 
cation. And as for you, she must fancy you are beyond 
reform.” 

44 How were your lines received?” said Hoel. 

44 Why, much in the same way as Archelaus answered 
the worthy barber who said, I * * * * 6 How shall I shave you?' 

6 In silence/ replied the sage.” 

46 1 fear it did not crush you,” said Elva. 44 I never 
was able to do that, though I began, as you know, in in- 
fancy.” 

44 Miss Heaton succeeded, nevertheless. By the way, 
Mr. Kestell, have you heard how that poor fellow is — the 
one you went to see at Greystone? I asked Smith, who 
knows everything, when I was there yesterday, and he said 
the man Joseph Button was in a bad way. 1 think when 


228 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


there are not many customers. Smith studies his old books; 
reads up Samuel, I fancy. ” 

Mr. Kestell turned his face slightly toward George 
Guthrie, as he answered: 

44 Did you go and see him?” 

“I? Oh, no! That special public-house having a bad 
name, 1 was afraid of the risk to my good character by be- 
ing seen there; but your philanthropy has got into the 
4 Greystone Advertiser/ ” 

44 Really, Josiah,” said his wife, 44 you are too good to 
all those people; they impose upon you. ” 

66 Button, you know, was once in my employment. Poor 
fellow, I turned him off for drink; still, I have a regard 
for him. 1 am sorry he is in a bad way.” 

64 1 expect it was more the shock to his nervous system 
than anything else,” said Hoel. 44 I hear all the other 
sufferers have been moved; but this Button, who was least 
hurt, remains behind. I suppose, therefore, that in spite 
of bad repute, mine host is kind . 99 

44 1 should like to go and see this poor man,” said Elva, 
returning to sit near to her father. 44 I can’t help feeling 
thankful that you or Hoel are not in his place.” 

44 No, no; certainly not,” said her father, quickly. 
44 Hoel, you must not let Elva go to that place. It would 
never do . 99 

44 But with Hoel, papa, what could hurt me?” 

44 No, dear; I would prefer your not going. I shall go 
again myself to-morrow, or Tuesday, and see about him. 
This week I shall go into Greystone as usual.” 

44 You have not looked so well this week, papa. You 
ought not to bother about this poor fellow; but of course 
1 won’t go if you don’t like it. Hoel shall go alone.” 

44 Don’t trouble him about that. Button, I expect, is 
quite happy in a place where he can get drink. I warned 
him against it; but in vain, I fear.” 

44 Surely, then, he should be got out of it as soon as pos- 
sible, and before he gets drowned,” said George. 44 I am 
sure, Mr. Kestell, you had better use me as your messen- 
ger. 1 expect my character has this evening been so im- 
pugned that there is nothing much left of it. Even the 
Taps would refuse to begin their work on me; and I am 
ready to be sent on a 4 sleeveless errand,’ as old Mrs. Joyce 
says; and if you bid me, 1 will bring back some of th§ 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 229 

articles required of fools in the old days— pigeons’ milk or 
stirrup oil/’ 

46 I promise my messengers no such difficult task. 1 
fold this Button to call here when he was well enough, and 
I know his interest will not allow him to forget this duty.” 

Mr. Kestell laughed a little. 

44 Well, just as you like. Now, Elva, when are we to 
have some sacred solace, or, as an Eastern poet says, when 
may we listen to 4 the love-struck nightingale's delightful 
strain?' ” 

44 George, you do not deserve to hear any music. As to 
your Eastern names, I prefer plain English.” 

All the same, Elva rose and went toward the piano, 
while George answered: 

44 My language is too ornate to please you, I see. I 
am — ” 

44 1 ask not proud philosophy to teach me what thou art. 
Still, as Hoel has never heard Amice sing, I shall give him 
the treat. Please don't refuse. Amice,'' said her sister, 
going up to her. 

Amice rose from her low chair in the shadow of the cur- 
fain, and went toward the piano, but with evident reluc- 
tance. 

44 I am glad you can rout out Amice a little,” said Mrs. 
Kestell, sadly. 44 She gets quieter every day. We shall 
have to wait for Mrs. Fenner to take her out. By the way, 
Josiah, do you know that 1 have been getting up the 
county families this afternoon, and I find that Mr. Fenner 
is connected with the Pellews? You knew some of them, 
didn't you? I fancy before we married you talked of one 
of that family?” 

Elva and Amice were by the piano hunting for some 
music, but at this name Amice slowly raised her head, and 
looked toward her father. Was it her fancy that his hand 
appeared slightly to shake as he put down on the table a 
book he held in his hand? 

44 Indeed! I didn't know that Fenner was acquainted 
with any of that family. Not that I was very intimate with 
them; they were from the Midlands; but I once had some 
business connection with one of the Pellews. Still, they 
are a large and scattered family. I know nothing of them 
now. ” 

“I am aware of the fact of relationship/* said Hoel ; 


230 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


44 and that is all. 1 must own to a certain idleness in keep- 
ing up with mere connections. My uncle is a great anti- 
quarian in respect of families, and could, I am sure, go 
through all of them; but he kindly spares me, knowing 
my supreme indifference to such genealogies. ” 

“Indeed, Hoel,” said Mrs. Kestell, “you are quite 
wrong. Cousins are very useful people, you owe them 
nothing, and want nothing from them, and yet, as the 
French say, 4 On a souvent besoin (Tun plus petit que soi.’ 
What do the Pellews consist of now? Do you know, 
Josiah?” 

“ It was a John Pellew who bought that land,” thought 
Amice, putting the music on the stand; she would not, 
however, have dared to say this aloud. 44 Papa said he 
had business transactions with him. Then, perhaps, it was 
merely that he bought Westacre Lands from him. There 
can be nothing strange in that. Oh, it is my horrible, 
wicked fancy !” 

She shivered a little, and said to Elva; 

44 1 don’t feel inclined to sing, Elva, to-night. Besides, 
sacred music may not be to Mr. Fenner’s taste.” 

44 Why don’t you call him Hoel, dear? He won’t like 
your being so formal. But you must sing. George, come 
and take a part in this trio, and leave county families 
alone. Mamma and Hoel can discuss them afterward. ” 

George Guthrie rose and came to the piano. He was 
quite serious for him, as he took up a sheet of music and 
bent a little toward Elva. 

“ Your father looks very unwell to-night, Elva. That 
Doctor Pink has not done him much good, has he? Like 
the rest of his profession, I expect he is quite — ” 

44 Indeed, you are mistaken. Doctor Pink has almost 
cured papa of that sudden dizziness he had last week. It 
was the accident that upset him again a little. ” 

44 Well, you ought to know best; but just this moment 
I noticed an expression of pain come over his face. Per- 
haps he is tired with our nonsense.- Let’s sing. Come, 
fairest nymph, resume thy reign — or thy piano. What 
shall we sing? And pray. Amice, look more cheerful. 
How can you expect to find a lover if you look so like a 
ghost? Well, here I am, 

“ ‘ Gayly tlie troubadour touched his — ’ ’* 


KESTELL OE GEE Y STOKE. 


231 


Elva came down with a strong, powerful chord upon the 
piano, and soon the three, who had often sung together, 
began a sacred trio. 

When the singing ended, Hoel could not help taking 
more notice of Amice. Certainly he had not heard such a 
voice before in a private drawing-room. The fulJ, deep, 
rich contralto was quite out of the ordinary run of un- 
trained voices; but the sadness and pathos were almost too 
pathetic. 44 I prefer my Elva’s voice/ 5 he thought to him- 
self, though he recognized the greater merits of her sister’s 
singing. 

Mr. Kestell now asked his wife if she were tired; and, as 
usual when she was down-stairs, he gave her his arm in the 
courtly, lover-like manner which struck Hoel, whose polite- 
ness was entirely different from the courtliness of the last 
generation. But in Mr. KestelFs manner to his wife there 
was even more than that fascinating, courteous attention 
of our grandfathers. There was the tenderness of a grown- 
up person to a child. 

Hoel noted it with appreciation. 

66 1 must go,” said George, when Mr. Kestell returned. 
44 1 won’t ask the maimed to accompany me. Suppose, 
Fenner, you slipped coming home over the bridge, and to- 
morrow morning you were found drowned in the Pool, what 
would the world say of me? How suspicion would cling 
to me in spite of innocence, and Elva would pursue me to 
the death.” 

44 Your conscience would not be very tender,” said Elva; 
44 but you may also suppose we should have a search-party 
before morning.” 

44 Come, Guthrie, I will walk with you to the bridge,” 
said Mr. Kestell. 

He moved a few steps toward the door, and a curious 
and quite unmistakable pallor overspread his features. 
Elva hurried up to him. 

44 Papa, what is the matter?” 

Mr. Kestell seized hold of the back of a chair with one 
hand, and passed the other over his forehead. 

44 A little dizzy, my dear. It is nothing — nothing.” 
Elva snatched a bottle of salts from a side table, and gave 
them to her father; but he put them aside. 44 No, no, 
dear; a little fresh air will restore me. Come, Guthrie.” 

The two went out, and Elva remained motionless, look- 


m 


KESTELL OF GliEY STONE. 


in g after her father with an anxious expression till Hoel 
came to her and made her sit down. 

44 Dearest, don’t be anxious about your father; he says 
it is nothing.” 

Elva looked up gratefully at Iloel’s gentle words. Both 
forgot Amice’s presence. 

44 Hoel, I can’t bear papa to be ill; I feel as if somehow 
it were mv fault; I have not looked after him enough. He 
is so good, so thoughtful. 1 half fear he may hide his 
symptoms from me for fear of giving me trouble, as he 
does from mamma. But it would be cruel of him if he did 
this.” 

There was no doubt ing the great love between father and 
daughter. But Hoel for a moment felt a little jealous. 
Did Elva love him well enough to leave father and mother? 
Though no one thought of Amice in her corner, she was 
passing through a worse experience than Elva. She 
thought: 4 4 How Elva loves him! And 1 — I am trying to 
hurt him. I have made a vow to find out. Suppose there 
is nothing to find out. But suppose there is? What 
will Ekasay of me, think of me? And yet justice is greater 
than love. Must I lose her love to help on a stranger? Oh, 
that I should be placed in such a position! It can not; 
it can not be possible.” 

She folded her hands, and pressed them against her 
throbbing temples and hid her eyes. She, too, experienced 
a strange giddiness; the objects round her appeared in a 
dull, red hue. Even though she pressed out the lamp- 
light, there came before her mental vision quite distinctly, 
written in red letters on a dull, black ground, the two 
words, 44 John Pellew.” 

That name again — she had seen it on the parchment — 
had it burned itself into her brain? Who was John Pel- 
lew? 

With a little cry of pain, suppressed almost before ut- 
tered, she left her corner, and advanced into the room 
where Hoel was bending over his batrothed. He turned 
round startled when Amice’s cold fingers touched the hand 
that lay on Elva’s shoulder; and yet Hoel was neither 
nervous nor easily startled. 

44 Mr. Fenner!” 

44 Good gracious!” he said, involuntarily, 
gotten you were here.” 


44 I had for- 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


233 


“ Mr. Fenner, tell me, who is John Pellew?" 

Elva looked up, loo, and her quick eyes saw the far- 
away, startled look in her sister's eyes, which had before 
frightened her. Brave, and quick to reason, she felt Hoel 
must know nothing of it, and she laughed. 

“ Dear me, Hoel, pray tell Amice what she wants to 
know; sometimes she gets a thing into her head, and she 
goes on worrying till she has found out." 

“ Indeed, I wish I could tell you; I suppose I must not 
ask why you want to know? The truth is, the Pellews are 
only second cousins, once or twice removed, and the mem- 
bers of that section of the family have had many misfort- 
unes, and are not profitable to their acquaintances, I ex- 
pect, or else Uncle Mellish would have invited them lo his 
house. John is a family name; so you may imagine they 
are not exactly original-minded. There's a John in every 
generation; but never the eldest son, who has to bear the 
name of Hilton before the Pellew, and also another name. 
I forget what it is, but Biblical, 1 know; but it is generally 
dropped for the Hilton. That is all I know; but if you 
take an interest in the Pellews, I promise to hunt them 
up. " 

“ Thank you," said Amice, and then Elva took her 
arm, wished Hoel good-night, bidding him wait up for her 
father, and see him safe upstairs. Had it not been for 
Amice she would have done this herself; but she dared not 
leave her in her present strange state of mind. 


CHAPTER VIII. 
elya's protector. 

When people have experienced disagreeable sensations 
which they can not exactly catalogue, they prefer to put 
them away from them without analyzing them. Hoel 
Fenner woke up the next morning with a strange feeling 
which he could neither explain nor understand. He re- 
membered waiting for Mr. Kestell’s return to the drawing- 
room, when the sisters had gone, and wondering, as he 
waited, what had been the cause of their father’s, sudden 
indisposition. Why had he rejected all (jffers of help? 
Then Hoel, too, remembered he had, even more than be- 
fore, felt that Amice Kestell was a strange and peculiar 
being. There was something about her he could not 


234 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


fathom, and this feeling, to a man of HoeFs intensely 
practical nature, was somewhat irritating. He liked 
everything to be of the plainest and most straightforward 
character, and it seemed almost an insult to have laid be- 
fore him something which he could not unravel. 

For this reason Hoel, when he woke up, decided that, 
after his marriage, he would discourage much intercourse 
with his sister-in-law. Anything peculiar was abhorrent 
to him. He positively shrunk from personal deformity 
just as much as he shrunk from any want of mental bal- 
ance. In this way alone did he show that he, too, was 
vulnerable, and influenced by the unexplained, for, by re- 
jecting it so vehemently, he tacitly acknowledged that it 
had some effect upon him. 

For, it had happened that Mr. Kestell had not reap- 
peared in the drawing-room; and Hoel, after waiting some 
time, with the last number of “ The Current Header ” in 
his hand, walked into the hall, and looked round. No one 
was there; the hall door was locked and bolted; but the 
hall lamp still burned brightly. There were two candle- 
sticks on the marble table, evidently meant for himself 
and Mr. Kestell. Hoel paused by the table and listened. 
Strange that he had not heard Mr. Kestell come in. His 
eyes turned toward the study door; there was a light there. 
Hoel moved softly toward it. 

Elva would be anxious about her father. Should he go 
in or not? A man's study is his sanctum— a place not to 
be lightly invaded; but, on the other hand, the old man 
had certainly seemed unwell. That sudden dizziness might 
return. 

These ideas still revolving through his brain, Hoel 
stopped just by the study door. All at once he heard a 
sound within. Mr. Kestell was walking ujj and down his 
room. This was rather comforting. A man who feels 
very dizzy does not march about his study. The steps 
were slow, but regular, like those of a man who is deep in 
thought. That was well. Hoel decided he had better 
leave the master of Eushbrook House and go to bed; but, 
hearing the steps approach nearer, he waited a moment, 
thinking that he would move softly away when the steps 
receded. Of course a man does not like to imagine he is 
being watched, even when he is ill. 

Suddenly the study door opened, and Mr. Kestell found 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


235 


himself face to face with Hoel. The meeting was perfect- 
ly unexpected on both sides. Iioel had waited for the 
steps to die away on the other side of the door, and Mr. 
Kestell had not heard Hoel outside. He was for the mo- 
ment entirely off his guard. His usually kind eyes sud- 
denly flashed out an angry, defiant look, his hand trembled 
visibly, and his voice shook as he said, in a tone of indig- 
nation which he did not try to conceal: 

44 Fenner, what are you doing here? I — I should have 
thought that you would have respected — ” 

This word, uttered bv himself, brought him to his senses. 
Like the sudden dying down of a flame, fed by only a few 
drops of spirits, his eyes fell, and he was speechless. 

44 1 beg your pardon, Mr. Kestell,” said the astonished 
Hoel, too much surprised as yet to feel injured by the im- 
plied accusation. 44 I was wanting to know if you had 
quite recovered from your — indisposition. Elva was anx- 
ious that I should wait till you came in, and I did not hear 
you return from the garden.” 

44 So you have been listening? Thank you; I am quite 
well now. 1 was doing a little business, that was all. 
Pray do not sit up for me. 1 fancy Jones will be waiting 
to help you with your bandage.” 

Hoel Fenner merely replied: 

44 Yes, of course. Good-night, Mr. Kestell.” 

44 1 hope you have all you want,” was the courteous re- 
ply, and Mr. Kestell was himself again. 

This morning, being early awake, Hoel went over all the 
above scene, and he was utterly puzzled by it. The look 
of startled anger on that benevolent face seemed to be 
photographed on HoePs brain. It was as if a much-trusted 
dog had turned suddenly round and bitten his master. 
Mr. Kestell would never have so looked without some rea- 
son; and that reason — what was it? Hoel turned the ques- 
tion all ways. He imagined himself in Mr. KestelPs place. 
He might have been startled, but angry — never. In his 
place he would have acknowledged that he had been startled, 
and would have laughed over it. Mr. Kestell was getting 
on in age, but still he, Hoel, could never have expected 
such sudden anger in a man whom he had considered the 
essence of perfect courtesy. 

Hoel was led on from this consideration to another, 
namely, that he must go back to his lodgings. He had, 


KESTELL Of GRRYStONE. 


m 


under (lie circumstances, made the most of his holiday. 
He had learned to know Elva better, and, if possible, to 
appreciate her more; but he sorely missed his London 
pavement and his work. His arm gave him no pain, and 
he would soon have it out of its prison. It was easy to get 
an amanuensis in town, and he must see about a house and 
a hundred other things before his marriage. The lovers 
had been putting the date of the wedding more and more 
forward, till now at last they talked of “ soon after Christ- 
mas. ” 

Elva said she must spend one more Christmas at home 
with her father. After that— well, she must learn to live 
in London, she supposed; but of course this sort of discus- 
sion ended in a lover’s talk and a little rhapsody. Not 
that the two were foolishly and demonstratively affection- 
ate. Elva’s love was too real for silliness; and Iloel was, 
perhaps, a little too perfectly free of doubt in his or Elva’s 
affection to have any touch of tender anxiety. 

But some cloud-shadow had come over the sunny land- 
scape, and Hoel Fenner went down to breakfast with just 
the slightest feeling of restraint in his manner, which he 
hoped did not appear to the outside world. Everything 
was the same, however. There was the same bright, lov- 
ing greeting from Elva, and the same gracious kindliness 
from her father, till Hoel began to ask himself if he had 
not been dreaming last night before he went to bed. 
Amice was never demonstrative, and her quietness was not 
greater than usual. 

“ Are you better to-day, dear old dad?” said Elva, bend- 
ing over her father, after the family prayers had been sol- 
emnly gone through. “ You did not sit up late, 1 hope. 
Let me look at you. Hoel, be doctor as well as patient — 
how do you think papa looks?” 

u Don't talk nonsense, child,” said Mr. Kestell, laugh- 
ing softly. <k I am quite well. I shall go into Grcystone 
to-day. Your mother seems very bright, and declares she 
is coming down presently. Any messages at Greystone for 
you girls? Hoel, what do you think of 'doing?” 

It was no good thinking of last night’s episode, and Hoel 
made an effort to be quite as natural as his host. 

“ Elva talked of walking up upon the forest road some 
day. I think to-day would be very pleasant for that ex- 
pedition. What do you say, mistress mine?” 


KESTFLL OF GUEYSTOXE. 


33 ? 

Hoel was examining his letters, and found one which 
made him resolve to take advantage of it, and to leave 
Rushbrook House. It is not often that chance and one's 
personal wishes can meet each other so happily at the right 
moment. 

44 Halloo! by the way, it must be to-day,” he added. 
44 Here’s my master says I must come up to town unless 
positively disabled.” 

64 Oh, Hoel, and we have so many more things to do, 
and so many people who would like to see you. The squire 
said you were to go to Court Garden as soon as ever you 
could.” 

44 And what about Doctor Pinkos leave? You will have 
to obtain that,” put in Mr. Kestell, opening the 44 Times.” 

44 I can easily run down again, for now I am certainly 
accident-proof; I never heard of a man being in two rail- 
way accidents in his life; and the law of chance is dead 
against it. Perhaps I ought to go to-day, but I think Pll 
wire that 1 can not come till to-morrow. And my land- 
lady will require notice; she will be very much grieved, 
Elva, at my coming back an engaged man, for I shall 
immediately look about for a house.” 

44 I must bring the girls up to town some day, I suppose, 
when you wish for the future Mrs. Fenner’s sanction to 
your choice. Eh, Elva? I shall put off the evil day as 
long as I can. But we old people must learn resignation. ” 

44 We can’t spare her yet,” said Amice, looking up with 
a troubled look in her eyes; only at this moment did she 
seem again to realize a little what the loss would be to her. 

Hoel seemed to breathe more freely now that he had de- 
cided to go back to town; why, he could not even explain 
to himself. The rest of the breakfast was occupied by dis- 
cussion of plans, and of various London localities. Even 
Amice joined in. No stranger would have noticed the 
least restraint in manner or word among any of the party. 

The pony-carriage was ordered io come round early. It 
was a long drive, but the day was fine, and the lovers looked 
forward to perfect peace, for the groom was to drive them 
to the foot of the hills, and then leave them to walk home 
alone, so there was nothing to mar the prospect. 

Elva hurried hither and thither, making preparations, 
such as Idling a sandwich-tin, in case they forgot luncheon- 


kestell of orefsTonf. 


238 

time, and as she flitted about here, there, and everywhere, 
she seemed like the sunshine of the old house. 

lloel retired to the library, wrote some letters with his 
left hand, and admired himself for learning this new art so 
quickly, and then indulged in a cigar and a novel, and 
made a few notes for an article on the merits of the novel- 
ist. He was finishing this mental essay when the door 
opened behind him. It was Elva come to summon him, 
he supposed, and he said, happily: 

4 4 All right, I’m ready. I say, Elva, what — ” 

44 Ah, it’s you, Hoel. I hear the brougham coming 
round for me. ” 

Mr. Kestell came forward, and Hoel started up and stood 
with his back to the fire-place, which attitude seems to help 
a masculine brain to overcome unexpected difficulties. 

44 1 am going to Greystone; 1 shall not be back till four 
o’clock. Don’t overdo yourself. That arm is not quite 
the thing yet, you know. ” Mr. Kestell, receiving no an- 
swer, cleared his throat a little, then continued: 44 By the 
way, how you startled me last night. I was coming out 
to look for Jones, and, my dear fellow, I am afraid I spoke 
just a little hastily.” 

Hoel felt as if he were the culprit, as we often do when 
our elders apologize. 

44 Of course, sir, it was a slight mistake. I know Elva 
was a good deal alarmed by the indisposition of which 
you complained.” 

44 Yes, yes, it was most kind of you to be anxious. So 
you really think you must leave us to-morrow?” 

44 Yes, 1 must do so.” 

44 But you will come as often as you can before the wed- 
ding. Indeed, Fenner, I can not let you leave us without 
telling you again how entirely I can trust my child into 
your hands — entirely. If I were to consult my own wishes 
I should wish to keep her as long as possible with me; but 
I can truly say, her happiness comes first. Long engage- 
ments are trying to all persons concerned; so I repeat, as 
soon as your arrangements can be made. I will give up my 
child.” 

Hoel’s feelings of resentment suddenly disappeared. 
Such kindness was most unusual. 

44 Elva thought the first week in January would — ” 

44 Well, yes; let us settle it so. Now I won’t keep you 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


239 


from her. I must not keep the brougham waiting. Good- 
bye.” 

Mr. Kestell smiled and retired, and Hoel said, with a lit- 
tle sigh of relief: “ One could hardly believe the two ex- 
pressions to belong to the same man. However, 4 All's 
well that ends well . 9 ” 

When they had sent away the carriage the lovers were 
quite happy. 

It was a perfect day for a walk on these lovely moors, 
and Hoel seemed carried out of his usual ultra-intellectual 
sphere, and, for once, to catch some of Elva’s spirit of 
Nature worship. 

44 Darling," he whispered, 44 these surroundings appear 
to belong to you exclusively. I seem always to fancy you 
with this exquisite background. I shall blame myself for 
taking you away from it to my dingy London." 

Elva gazed and gazed at the late autumn landscape, as 
if she were trying to say good-bye to it. 

44 There is something better than Nature, Hoel, and 
though I do love it from the bottom of my heart, 1 know 
the love of one human soul is far greater." 

Soon succeeded the silence of happiness, as the two. leav- 
ing the sandy road with varied shades of red and yellow 
plunged into gorse and heather, dotted with an occasional 
oasis of short, sweet grass. What richness of color there 
was here! Now a brown furrow, then a bit of silver-sanded 
path, next a little patch of boggy ground lying near a great 
hole where sand had been dug out. 

Then they turned into a lane which wound itself between 
woods, plantations, and fields; and every now and then a 
vista of brown hills and blue distance fame in sight. 

Further on they reached a cluster of tall pines, which 
towered high above the many little Christmas trees, as 
Hoel called the smaller Scotch firs. The red stems rose 
many feet, and, together with some of lesser height, in- 
clined all in one direction, as if winter storms had long ago 
beaten them down when they were young and tender, until 
they could now no more straighten themselves. 

They rested a little in this sheltered spot, and their taik 
turned on mundane matters of houses, and how the spring 
should be spent; and whether, when the summer came. 
Hoe! should take his wife to Switzerland. 

44 You have so much to see, Elva; and when you have 


240 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE 


traveled a little, your mind will view everything in a 
broader way.” 

44 Shall I see things in a broader way? But will any- 
thing be really more beautiful than our forest? Don’t you 
think that that landscape is most beautiful round which 
one’s most numerous thoughts are intwined? I remember 
now the exact spot, by the brink of the third Pool, where 
I suddenly realized the meaning of 4 Speech is but broken 
light upon the depth of the unspoken.’ The sun broke out 
all at once on a bit of the glassy water, and then I knew 
exactly what that meant.” 

44 But traveling,” said Hoel, making a trite remark with- 
out knowing it (though often universally received sayings 
hide much deeper truths), 44 widens the mind, and edu- 
cates everybody.” 

64 1 suppose it does; and yet Mrs. Eagle Bennison has 
been nearly everywhere, but I have never heard her make 
one remark which has not come out of a guide-book.” 

They now began to ascend toward the high table-land 
whither they were bound. In the distance was a small cot- 
tage, the last Emit of cultivation in any sense of the word. 
Above that was only to be seen the lonely, heather-clad 
forest land. 

44 Who lives there?” asked lloel, as, with a plodding 
patience, they waded knee-deep in heather. 

Elva looked up, and noticed a figure nearing the cot- 
tage. Her heart beat a little faster, but she would not 
betray that she recognized Walter Akister. She had never 
met him since her engagement had been made public prop- 
etry, and she remembered too well his look on the day of 
the accident. 

44 Kelly Sandhay, the man’s name is; he works for a 
farmer on the other side of the ridge. We need not pass 
it, if you don’t mind further wading through this sea of 
heather. ” 

44 But the path beyond it looks better walking,” said 
Hoel; and Elva assented. 

She took care to say nothing about that solitary figure, 
and, happily, it was soon hidden by the cottage itself. 
But, partly because of her anxiety, she caught her foot on 
one of the many brown furrows, and fell, tearing her skirt. 

44 How stupid of me!” she said, as Hoel helped her up 
with tender solicitations about her foot. 44 And 1 believe I 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


241 


have no pins. If Amice were here she would have a dozen 
in her pocket. Neither have you, Hoel,” she continued, 
as she examined, with a happy Jaugh, the back of his coat- 
collar. “ That is a bad omen for our future thriftiness. 
I saw a pin this morning, and I meant to pick it up. Do 
you remember that French story, ‘ I/Histoire d'une Epin- 
gle?* I know riches and honor fell to the lot of the picker- 
up of that pin!” 

“ 1T1 run on to the cottage and beg you a few. I sup- 
pose there is a Mrs. Sandhay? You cau’t walk far in this 
tall heather if you have to hold up these elegant garments. ” 

Elva would have infinitely preferred to keep away from 
the cottage; but Hoel insisted, so she sat down on a ridge 
and said she would wait for him. As he started forward 
Elva heard the furious barking of a dog, but thought noth- 
ing of it, seeing that it dragged a chain behind it; poachers 
were plentiful in this wild district, and watch-dogs were 
necessary to the farmers. If only Walter had gone on, 
thought Elva. But she could not see him on the higher 
path, where he ought to have been by this time. She was 
seized by a most unusual nervous trembling, and stood in- 
tently watching HoeTs figure as he approached the house. 
The dog barked furiously, and pulled at his chain, and 
Elva wondered what would happen if such a fierce specimen 
of the canine race were to get loose. This thought made 
her resolve to go on, so she walked quickly toward the cot- 
tage. She would meet Hoel as he came out. How stupid 
of her not to have gone with him. At this moment, when 
she was within a hundred yards of the cottage, the dog*s 
chain suddenly gave way, and as if Elva had specially 
offended him by her cautious approach, he bounded toward 
her, barking furiously. 

Elva uttered a little cry, not audible, however, on ac- 
count of the loud barking, but, notwithstanding, she stood 
her ground. It was impossible to run in the thick heather. 
And where could she run to? 

“ Hoel!” she called, but whether or not her cry reached 
him, she did not know, for she was too much alarmed now 
to think further. 

Suddenly another figure seemed to spring up as if from 
the ground, and, just as the dog oounded upon her and 
seized her dress, a powerful hand collared him, and tried 
to hold him back — succeeded for a moment, but then the 


242 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


enragea brute turned upon Elya’s deliverer and bit the 
hand that held him. 

44 Walter,” she cried, 44 let go!” 

For Walter Akister, with courage rarely surpassed, again 
seized the dog, and this time grasped it firmly with his left 
hand, then with a weighted stick, he struck the animal 
with such force and such a well-directed blow, that it fell 
senseless to the ground. Walter paused a moment to take 
breath, as Elva, seizing her handkerchief, tried to bind up 
his bleeding hand. He mechanically folded the slight white 
cambric round the wound. 

44 Oh, does it hurt very much? How good, how brave 
of you,” murmured Elva. “I — I — There is Mr. Fen- 
ner coming. He — how shall I thank you?” 

44 Pshaw!” said Walter, with lowering brows; 44 the pain 
is nothing. 1 shall go and put it under the pump. The 
brute won’t do it again. It was fortunate I was here. 
Your — lover was not very near at hand, when his presence 
would have been useful.” 

Elva colored; auger and gratitude strove together. The 
struggle was visible in her face. 

44 How can you say such a thing?” she said, defiantly. 
44 I am grateful for your help; but — if Hoel had been here 
it would not have been needed.” 

66 Indeed! Well, good-bye. Here he comes.” 

64 Don’t go; please, don’t go. Your hand must be seen 
to. Come into the cottage.” 

Hoel, breathless and troubled, now came running up. 

44 Good heavens! What’s this? Here is the owner. 
Elva, are you hurt? Mr. Akister, I fear — ” 

44 It’s nothing to make such a fuss over,” said Walter, 
striding toward the cottage, and, meeting the farmer, he 
had a few words with him. 

44 Hoel, he saved my life,” said Elva, jmtting her hand 
into Hoel’s arm and feeling now, for the first time, that 
her limbs were trembling; 44 at least, I mean — ” 

44 Nonsense; nothing of the kind. The brute must be 
shot, of course; but Mr. Akister only did what any one 
else would have done.” 

Hoel was secretly much annoyed at having, as it seemed, 
been out of the way at the moment of danger; annoyed 
still more at his place having been usurped by that un- 
mannerly bear, Waiter Akister. Neither was he mollified 


KESTEtL OF GREt^TOHE. MS 

by seeing that he ought, in duty bound, to go and see after 
the welfare of the bitten hand. 

The farmer now came running up from a neighboring 
field accompanied by a laborer; and Hoel expressed his 
indignation at such a savage dog being kept on the prem- 
ises. In the meanwhile, Elva hastily followed Walter into 
the cottage, and found him bathing his hand with cold 
water. 

44 Oh, Walter, let me help you/'' she said. 

44 No,” he answered, fiercely. 44 Look here, Elva Kes- 
tell. 1 only want one thing of you, and that you have 
given to some one else. You reject what has been yours for 
years; is yours; and always will be. But, pshaw! what 
does it matter to you now? You have what you want, 1 
suppose. As to this wound, it is nothing. It is not the 
first time a dog has bitten me . 99 

A woman can not altogether be indifferent to a man who 
has done her a great service; and Elva, in a softened tone, 
said: 

44 Walter, please don’t take things amiss. You know I 
never imagined or guessed that you — I mean what you said 
■ — till you told me; and, then — how is it my fault?” 

46 Some day you may be glad to know I am always the 
same,” he said, in a low voice, for now Hoel’s step was 
heard. 44 All you can say or do will not alter me. Some 
day you may understand that. Now pray do not trouble 
your head further about this.” 

44 No, no, please, Walter, do not speak in this way. 
Find some one you can love, and who loves you. Forget, 
please, forget me. I — 99 

44 You — oh, yes, you are satisfied, you mean to say. 
What idiots women are sometimes; they do not under- 
stand what is for their happiness.” 

44 Elva!” Hoel was entering the cottage, while the tone 
of his voice betrayed some annoyance. 

44 Yes. Oh, Hoel, come, see if you can do anything for 
Mr. Akister.” 

Walter turned round and scowled at Elva. 

44 Do you think I would accept anything from him — him? 
In that case, Elva, you do not understand. I need not 
have expected you to do so, however. All women are alike 
in that.” 

Hoel heard the words, but was too much surprised to say 


244 


KESTREL OE 0 RE Y STOKE. 


anything at first; and, before lie could get over his aston- 
ishment, Walter Akister was striding down the hill, and 
was soon lost to sight behind a hillock. 

“We may as well go on to our destination,” said Hoel, 
“ that is, if you are not tired, Elva?” 

“ Oh, 1 am not a bit tired,” she answered; and, after a 
few words to the woman, who came in to offer sympathy 
and counsel, the two walked out in silence. When they 
were nearing the top where the fir-trees round the clump 
were known as Hawk’s Nest, Hoel paused. He was cer- 
tainly annoyed, and Elva saw that he was not altogether 
pleased by Walter’s speech. 

“ Tell me,” lie said, suddenly, “ what does all this mean 
about Walter Akister? Have you — ” 

Hoel paused. The very idea that Elva had trifled or 
flirted with some one else was unbearable. He had believed 
he was her first and only love. Elva wished now she had 
mentioned the subject before; but her own pride was 
touched. The color came to her cheeks; and, if Hoel had 
looked, he would have seen how beautiful she appeared 
when excited. 

“ W alter Akister has known me for years, and it was 
just when you first came here that he told me he loved me. 
How could I help that?” 

“ He would not have dared to tell you, Elva, if you had 
not— given him some — ” 

Elva drew herself up to her full height. This action was 
quite unconscious. It was simply the result of a feeling of 
pride at Hoel’s even doubting her. She loved him too 
much, however, to allow her pride to shelter itself behind 
silence. 

“ Please, dear Hoel, do not say any more. You know 
that 1 have given my love but once only— that has been to 
you.” 

“Yes; but you said then you were not always of the 
same opinion; that you were not sure of your moods. If I 
could doubt — ” 

“ Hoel, please don’t be silly.” This time Elva laughed. 
Clever, sensible, superior in every way as was her lover, he 
could yet say a foolish thing. “ I told you before that I 
can not help Walter Akister ’s loving me and behaving in 
this bearish manner; but — well, I suppose I am sorry for 
him, nothing more. Now let us talk of something else.” 


RE&TELL OP GREYSTONP. 245 

They did so; but this last walk had lost its perfect 
beauty. On both sides one little note had jarred. 


CHAPTER IX. 

IX LONDON ON BUSINESS. 

Before Mr. Kestell drove off to Greystone, he went up- 
stairs to his wife’s boudoir. Sjunee was there, just prepar- 
ing her luncheon. Mrs. Kestell was sitting by the fire, 
looking so young and handsome, that it needed no great 
effort of imagination on the part of her husband to remem- 
ber the courting-time. 

“ Well, Symee,” he said, noticing, as he frequently did, 
with kind words his wife’s confidential maid, “have you 
heard lately from your brother?” 

Symee raised a gentle, pale face up to her master. 

“ No, sir, not very lately. Since he left he seems so 
changed, and does not like writing letters; but he does his 
work as usual. Perhaps it is rather a busy time at his 
office.” 

“ Yes, 1 am sure it is. You are a good friend to your 
brother, Symee; the best he has.” 

Symee had retired toward the door, and in answer smiled 
gratefully at her master. His words were balm to her 
heart; for she often grieved secretly about Jesse. Yes, he 
was changed; and she put down the change to her refusal 
to live with him. 

Mrs. Kestell was altogether more genial and sympathetic 
now to her husband. This was caused by the excitement 
of Elva’s wedding; for otherwise her life had flowed on 
without a want or a care, almost without an untoward 
event. All trouble was kept from her, owing to her fan- 
cied ill-liealth. 

“ So you are off, Josiah. Are you sure it will not hurt 
you? I don’t think Pink understands you at all; he didn't 
understand my case in the least.” 

“ Yes, dear, I am much better. I saw the young people 
off just now on their expedition. I think we shall be told 
they make a very handsome bridal pair. Still, Elva does 
not come up to her mother. ” 

He stooped down and kissed the hair which showed so 
few silvery threads. 

“ I was certainly the best looking of our family; but my 


24G 


KESTELL 0 f GREY STOKE. 


sisters were so vain that the}' were always telling me 1 was 
nothing to look at. ” 

“ I undeceived you there, I think,” Mr. Kestell smiled. 
That cour ting-time was so full of happy remembrances, 
that it seemed only like yesterday; and yet, here was his 
elder daughter going to be married. 

“ The first week in January,”* he said, suddenly. “ There 
is really nothing to wait for, is there?” 

“ Oh, nothing; and lovers are a little tiresome after a 
time. Elva will miss the country; the girls have been so 
spoiled. Very different from the Fitzgerald girls, who were 
brought up so strictly that they had no ideas of their own 
now. I am sure our system was much the best; and the 
proof is that a very rising man, who has the pick of London 
society, selects Elva, and falls in love with her at first 
sight.” 

Mrs. Kestell ’s system had been the laisser faire , not 
from choice, but because she had no authority over her 
girls. Mr. Kestell knew this well enough; but he would 
not have contradicted his wife for the world. 

“ Yes, dear, you are quite right; the proof of any sys- 
tem is in the result, and the result in Elva is perfect.” 

“ And in Amice, too. You don’t understand all her 
good jDoints. She is quite the comfort of my life when 1 
can’t have Symee. By the way, Josiah, you will never al- 
low Symee to go away, will you?” Mrs. Kestell looked up 
at her husband in a confiding manner, and with a troubled 
look in her eyes. 

“ Of course not, dear. Your comfort, you know, has 
always been my first thought.” 

A dim ray pierced the nearly ossified brain of Mrs. Kes- 
tell, and that ray showed her the long years of faithful de- 
votion, the perfect kindness and goodness of the husband, 
whom her own people had made a favor of accepting as 
one of the family. She held out her well-shaped, delicate 
hand with a very sweet smile on her lips. 

“Yes, dear, your devotion has been- the great blessing 
of my life. How could 1 have lived through so much ill- 
ness and suffering without it?” 

“ Thank you, darling,” he whispered, stooping down; 
and these thanks came from the bottom of his heart. 

The pause that followed, during which he kissed the 
hand and the unwrinkled forehead of his wife, seemed to 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 247 

him like stepping into a new Garden of Eden, as if he had 
suddenly come upon a beautiful oasis in an arid desert. 

Still feeling this, he walked away to the door. 

“ Good-bye, darling. Take great care of yourself till I 
come back. I will call Symee.** 

One more look at his wife, and then he was gone, and 
very soon Amice, from her window, saw the brougham 
drive off to Greystone. To her the horses* hoofs upon the 
gravel seemed to say: “ Who was John Pellew? Who was 
John Pellew?’* till the sound ceased in the distance. 

Mr. Kestell did not drive straight to his office, but made 
a detour to the inn, where Button still lay, neither much 
better nor much worse. In answer to Mr. KestelPs in- 
quiries, mine host, who came to the door, answered that 
there seemed to be a turn for the worse this morning, and 
that the doctor who had called had looked a bit grave. 
Mr. Kestell quickly slipped a sovereign into an envelope, 
and asked the landlord to give it to the invalid. After 
which gracious act of charity he drove off, saying aloud to 
himself — why, he knew not, as surely thinking it would 
have served the purpose: 

“ Poor fellow! I feel he will only drink it. But he ex- 
pects it of me, I am sure he does; and one does not like to 
disappoint an invalid.” 

When he reached his office, he dismissed his carriage. 
This office was, in fact, the lower story of a large, substan- 
tial, red-brick Queen Anne house, in the upper part of 
which his partner lived; for the Kestells had for years been 
inhabitants of this house before the great rise in wealth 
which had made this present Kestell of Greystone a county 
man. 

Mr. Kestell now appeared to be in a great hurry; he had 
an interview with his partner, quickly, well, and wisely 
settled a few difficult business details, and then said he 
should not stay longer to-day, and that he was not to bo 
expected next day. He wrote a telegram, which he put 
into an envelope, and told a clerk to take it to the post- 
office in the afternoon; after which, Mr. Kestell w r alked 
away, and went to the railway-station. 

He took his ticket for London, and choosing an empty 
first-class carriage, he bribed the porter to lock him in. 
“ He wished to do a little business in quiet,** he remarked. 

This business must have been purely mental, for when 


248 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


the train moved on, Mr. Kestell folded his hands, and 
hardly moved all the way to town. Once he murmured : 
“ I fear 1 can not get home this evening; but Celia will get 
the telegram. I have done such a thing before— yes, when 
we were involved in that bank failure, 1 stayed away all 
night. She will not think anything of it. Poor darling! 
How like her old self she was this morning. Yes, every- 
thing is worth while for her — everything.” 

Mr. Kestell, once in London, recovered his energy. He 
did not even wait, as he often had done before, to help a 
distressed female to get her luggage. More than once the 
benevolence of his countenance had caused him to be ap- 
pealed to by single ladies, who would have confided even 
their purses to such a man. And, in truth, never had his 
help been asked in vain. More than one old maid told 
stories about “ That very kind gentleman who was so good 
to me.” 

There was no time to-day, however, for outside philan- 
thropy. He took a cab, and drove at once to the business 
place of Card & Lilley, sent in his name, and was soon ad- 
mitted into the private room of Mr. Card. Lilley had some- 
how been swallowed up by Card, who, however, still kindly 
advertised his non-existent partner. 

Mr. Kestell knew Jesse did not work in the room visitors 
went through, so he did not expect to see him; indeed, after 
the first preliminary civilities, and the usual sympathelic 
confidences about the past, present, and future weather, he 
at ouce said: 

44 Is Vicary still with you?” 

44 Yes, certainly; we should have advised you of it had 
he left.” 

Mr. Card always said “ we ” in loving memory of Lilley. 

44 Yes, of course, I know; but still in the press of busi- 
ness things are forgotten. I came here to consult you 
about him.” 

44 After the handsome premium you paid for him, he is, 
I hope, giving you no trouble.” 

44 Well, I don’t quite say that. However, young men 
must be young men; and lately 1 have detected signs of 
restlessness in him. I have talked very seriously to him 
about it; but you know, if once the spirit of roving gets 


REST ft LL Oft GREY STONE. 249 

into a young fellow, he is not fit for much steady work 
afterward.” 

44 Yes, yes, certainly,” said Mr. Card, rubbing his hands 
slowly; 44 but I wonder we have seen nothing of it. How- 
ever, you know, Mr. Kestell, there is no lack of clerks at 
present. The applications are a perfect nuisance; so, if 
you wish in any way — ” 

44 No, no, I don’t wish,” put in Mr. Kestell. 44 1 am 
only thinking of your interests. 1 am going to see him to- 
day, and if 1 find him still bent on roving, why, I shall not 
refuse him my sanction any longer.” 

44 It is very good of you, I am sure; the fellow ought to 
be ashamed of disappointing you. Still, I must say he does 
his work well and intelligently. Indeed, we half thought 
we should raise him; but, if you say he has other ideas, 
that will not be worth while.” 

44 Thank you; I will do my best to make him see reason. 
Say nothing to him about my visit. It might only make 
him more obstinate.” 

44 Of course not, Mr. Kestell.” 

Then the two men fora few minutes plunged into a busi- 
ness talk, after which Mr. Kestell very soon took his leave. 

44 Strange that Kestell of Greystone should bother him- 
self about that Vicary,” thought Mr. Card when his visitor 
had gone. 44 The young man must be a fool if he throws 
up Ins chance. Something behind it, I suppose,” and not 
troubling himself to consider the question, Mr. Card re- 
sumed his work. If Vicary threw up his situation, he 
would of course lose, as it were, the benefit of the original 
premium. That, however, was nothing to Mr. Card; and 
clerks could be had in plenty. 

Mr. Kestell next consulted his watch; he had yet some 
other business to do, and waiving the question of lunch, he 
took a cab, and called at several colonial emigration offices 
and land companies. Here he informed himself about 
matters concerning the taking up of land, and of buying 
farms; took away a goodly heap of printed matter of in- 
formation on these various subjects; and then, hot and 
weary, he at last reached his club, and ordered an early 
dinner. 

* 4 I had better go and see Vicary to-night,” he thought, 
44 and have the thing over at once.” 

Quite unconscious of the coming visitor, Jesse reached 


250 


KESTEEL OF GEEYSTOtfE. 


his lodgings this evening with that clock-like regularity as 
to time, which made ’Liza say: 

“ Mr. Vicary he is a regular gentleman, and never keeps 
the kettle boiling over for his tea, as some people does.” 

There was a great alteration, however, in Jesse now, 
since his return from the country; a change which showed 
itself in little things, which would have told any tender, 
careful watcher that he, Jesse, was passing through a time 
of intense mental suffering. But there was no one to note 
these little signs, and Jesse had to get through it as best 
he could in silence. 

He was quite used to a rough life; that was nothing to 
him. Before this, on coming home, his bounding step, 
his cheerful greeting to ’Liza, all told of hope; but now 
these signs were gone; something had taken its place, and 
that something was a mechanical and dogged perseverance 
in a work which was not congenial to him. 

This particular evening Jesse had felt the power of this 
demon of hopelessness strong upon him. There were two 
natures fighting within him, and the fight was all the 
more powerful and terrible because, till that fatal evening, 
Jesse had had a strong belief in himself and his own power. 
It was not conceit, because it was founded on a firm trust 
and belief in God, a belief founded on the experience of his 
youth; but, nevertheless, though he still clung tenaciously 
to his faith, the hour of temptation had come to him, as it 
comes to every man, and the battle of life had to be 
fought. On the loss of the battle, or on its victory, it is 
not too much to say depended all Jesse Vicary’s future 
higher life. And the battle was not a question of hours, 
but of many days. Already now had he spent many an 
hour in his small room fighting with evil thoughts, as if 
they represented evil spirits, and were tangibly there be- 
fore him. 

Shame is the hardest trial for man to bear — shame, that 
is, that is felt; and shame had seized upon Jesse with a 
deadly power. He had been able to tread the path of pov- 
erty, and to see sin around him, and to know that he de- 
spised it; now as he went his habitual round, he seemed to 
be followed by a lurid light which mocked God's sunlight, 
and which showed him sin under a new form. 

“ Thou art no better than these,” said a mocking fiend, 
“ no better than these, except by chance. Thou, too, art 


REST ELL OF GREYSTONE. 


251 


an outcast in the great, cold, cruel world — a mere uncared- 
for unit, and not a member of the beautiful patriarchal 
family which has raised, through a series of spiritual evolu- 
tions, human beings from the level of the brute creation. 
With all thy pretensions, thy high thoughts, thy self-suffi- 
ciency, thou art no better than these outcasts.” 

Again and again had the poor fellow thrown himself on 
his knees, and wondered if his religion were on a par with 
his former pride, a mere sham? Had it been built up by 
reason of his respectability, and like a house of cards, easily 
blown down by the breath of public opinion? Or was it 
something deeper — more real than this? 

He wanted the answer, and the answer came not; so 
that, suddenly rising, unable to lift his mind higher than 
himself, he would once more begin his round of reasoning. 
In fair weather how easy he had found it, how powerful 
had been his anger against scoffers, and now — ah, well, his 
punishment had come. Even doubts crowded in; doubts 
which had seemed so easy to refute before; doubts which 
he had again and again argued with others, and his argu- 
ments had proved powerful. But now what irony of fate 
was this, that all his past words rose up and laughed him 
to scorn, while his answers looked more like gossamer crea- 
tions, which a breath could blow away? 

When he went out to visit. his friends in the street, or sat 
as before near Obed Diggings’s daughter, all his power of 
comforting seemed gone away. Even Obed’s gaunt figure, 
and his infirmities, not caused by teetotalism, began to ap- 
pear natural to Jesse. Why had he fancied before that he 
could reform any one? Was it not a case of 4 4 Physician, 
heal thyself?” 

Now and then, at rare intervals, however, Jesse had a 
flash of different and less desponding thoughts. 

With the loss of what he had deemed dearest and best, 
he had lost much motive power; but, after all, where lay 
his fault? The sin of the parent is to be visited upon the 
children; but does that visitation imply any disparagement 
of the child? Surely not. To his own Maker he standeth 
or falleth; and has not every man the right to ask and to 
claim justice from his Maker? 

44 1 have no birthright,” thought Jesse, during one of 
these happier moments; 44 but God gave me the right to 


‘252 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


live and the right to ask for justice. 1 believe, I believe 
in the right. God help me.” 

Jesse grasped this belief with a thanksgiving felt, not 
littered; for true belief, that belief which is the only one 
worth having, is rare, it must be a heavenly gift, so won- 
derful and powerful is it, and, if denied, some great pur- 
pose must be meant to be answered by its absence. 

Then, all at once, Jesse lost it again, a curtain was let 
down and hid it from him; but still his first germ of hope 
lay in the thought: “ The other day 1 had it. The truth 
shone out, and for a short time I grasped it.” 

A very small comfort, however, when the battle had to 
be fought again; when the motive power of life seemed 
worth nothing; when vague notions and strange tempta- 
tions crowded in, and he asked himself: “ Why not try to 
enjoy those pleasures in which others have found some 
compensation for ruined lives?” 

This evening, on his way home, a passer-by had put into 
his hand a paper on “Individual Liberty.” Jesse had 
lost some of that healthy curiosity of anything new which 
makes men clear and correct in discriminative judgment. 
He glanced at it, and read some of the paragraphs on Taxes 
and Rates, and the Evils of Governments. He was not 
much interested with all this; but on the last page he 
found a few lines which caught his attention: 

“ Peace, happiness, progress can only exist on one con- 
dition, that men are not struggling for this hateful power 
over each other, that they desire to be free themselves, and 
to allow all others to be free. ” 

“ What is freedom?” he said to himself. “ Hid I not 
once believe it to be a firm standing-ground in the world, 
from which one could climb above others? That standing- 
ground is gone, and I imagine the climbing to be impossi- 
ble, and feel that 1 must stay at the bottom among (he 
common herd. But was that freedom? Suppose there 
should be another kind of freedom, tire freedom from all 
ambition centered in self? But, without ambition, how is 
good work to be done? Can there be selfless ambition? 
May not there be a spiritual level which has not one con- 
necting link with the material? In that case, may I not 
look for it even in Golden Sparrow Street?” 

Had not he, all his Jife ; inseparably associated the spirit- 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


253 


ual with the material, made the one utterly dependent on 
the other? Had his first basis been utterly wrong? On the 
other hand, might not the one be merely a result, nay, a 
necessary result of the other? 

It was a new thought, and with a smile of pleasure Jesse 
rang the bell for ’Liza to take away his tea things. 

“ Shall you be going out, Mister Vicary?” asked the 
little maid, who had also, long ago, given up country ideals 
of a clean face, and was content to be a resting-place for 
smuts. 

44 No, ’Liza, not to-night; I think I’ll do some work at 
home.” 

The tea things having disappeared, however, Jesse sat 
down by his small fire, and did not work; Symee’s de- 
cision had taken the heart out of his after-hours study; he 
knew that, in time, he should relapse into the clerk pure 
and simple, a slavish machine with a contracting instead 
of expanding brain. With a little sigh of impatience he 
} heard ’Liza’s step again. Her affectionate regard was, at 
times, aggravating. 

44 If you please, Mr. Vicary, there’s a visitor for you; 
shall I show him up? He’s a gentleman.” 

44 It’s Mr. Hoel Fenner,” said Jesse to himself, with a 
sudden gleam of gratitude, for Hoel had not made a sign 
since Jesse had rejected his offer. 

44 Yes.” 

’Liza shuffled down, and soon threw open the door again, 
to usher in — Mr. Kestell! 

All the fierce storm of days past burst forth again in 
Jesse’s inner spirit, but outwardly he merely behaved as 
was befitting his position and that of his visitor. 


CHAPTEE X. 

A GLEAM OF LIGHT. 

44 My dear Vicary,” said Mr. Kestell, taking the 
proffered chair, and trying to be quite natural; a some- 
what difficult task when both men had such a vivid recol- 
lection of their fast interview. 

Make believe is always painful to some natures; but it is 
far more painful if the person we are trying to deceive is 
conscious of our effort. 

Was Jesse conscious that Mr. Kestell’s perfect ease was 


254 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


pufc on? This question the latter would have paid several 
sovereigns to have had answered. 

“ My dear Vicary, I am glad to catch you at home. I 
was half afraid that after the clay’s hard work you might, 
like other young men, and very naturally, too, have gone 
to the pit of a theater, and I should have had my journey 
here for nothing. Still, knowing you as I do, I might 
have guessed otherwise. How are you? Have you re- 
pented of your repentance? I was really sorry you were 
so resolute about that offer of Mr. Fenner’s; I quite came 
round to your way of thinking.” 

“ I have not repented of my repentance,” said Jesse, 
without a smile on his face. Evidently, he was in no mood 
for suavity. * Mr. Kestell was sorry to see the change in 
him. It was very evident to his keen eye. He altered 
his tone: 

“ Now, Vicary, let us be honest with each other. 1 
mean that I want you to speak quite openly with me. You 
mistook some things I said hastily. You have, in conse- 
quence, made a false step. Pure imaginary conduct and 
reasoning seldom bring satisfactory action. I hear from 
Hoel Fenner that the post you rejected has been offered 
and accepted by some one else. 1 am sorry for it. You 
had a chance and lost it.” 

Mr. Kestell was feeling his way, and forgot to add a 
sentence about his own original strong objection to Jesse’s 
accepting the offer. 

“ It is best as it is,” said Jesse, simply. He hated to 
have that matter raked up again, for it reminded him of 
the blighting and death of his manly pride. 

fc< You acted hastily, and I fear you will regret it. I 
feel sure yoji will, Jesse. This has greatly distressed me. 

I can not tell you how much 1 have felt it, and I have — as 
1 was in London, I mean — I have been hatching a little 
scheme which will be, as newspaper advertisements say, 
greatly to your advantage.” 

Jesse was so easily swayed by kindness that all at once 
ho tried to get over the tone of sulky reticence he had 
adopted. 

“ It is very kind of you, sir; but, after all, one thing 
may be as good as another. I have become so accustomed 
to my work at the office that it is no trouble to me, and I 
can improve myself at home by study. I have not done 


KESTELL 0 E GltEYSTONE. 255 

much since I came back to town; but I shall begin again 
soon. I hope Symee is well. ” 

44 Yes, Symee is well; quite the comfort of our lives. ” 
Mr. Kestell looked round the poor, shabby room. 44 And 
really I think her decision was wise; yes, wise for both 
your sakes.” 

This subject lay too near Jesse’s heart to evoke any light 
response. 

44 She thought so, and there the matter ended.” 

44 There you are again, Vicary, taking things too much 
to heart. You want change of scene and occupation; and 
now let me unfold my little plan. Would you like to emi- 
grate, Vicary? A chance, such as 1 am not likely to meet 
with again, has occurred. A very desirable homestead has 
come into my possession. I mean, that if 1 can find a man 
who will take it from me, working it and paying me a 
small rent, I shall give it up to him. In three years the 
farm and land will become the tenant’s property. Suppose 
you found things pretty comfortable at this Regina Farm, 
you might send for Symee. How does this strike you? 
You are fond of the country and of country life, and you 
are strong and energetic — just the sort of man to get on 
famously in Canada. This North-west territory is becom- 
ing quite popular, I believe. As to your journey, I could 
get you a free passage, having some friends among the 
ship-owners.” 

Mr. Kestell paused and looked at Jesse attentively; but 
the small lamp did not give a very good light, and he could 
not be sure of the effect of his speech. 

Had Mr. Kestell come yesterday most likely Jesse would 
have joyfully closed with the offer; it would have been to 
him a way of throwing over all his past life, and begin- 
ning again with a firm determination to bury all the ro- 
mance and all the noble thought of his youth and boy- 
hood, and to go where one name was as good as another, 
never mind what past history he brought with him. 

But only now had this new idea come to him. All his 
life he had associated the spiritual and the material; but 
just as this old truth, that these had nothing to do with 
each other, had vaguely come to him, the temptation was 
held out to him in a new form. He might go away and 
begin again a new material life, and join to it a new spirit- 
ual existence. He could, in fact; do what people call be- 


256 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 


gin again. But why should he? Was it not another form 
of cowardice? Why should he leave his friends in Golden 
Sparrow Street? Why, because he could no longer view 
their relative position in the same light, should he throw 
up all his high schemes for good and go to a new world, 
where the chief attraction would be himself and his own 
welfare, and where, in the solitude of a Canadian farm, he 
could brood over wrongs which he could not help: 

All this flashed through his brain, not in definite words, 
but like a new creed, a revelation of a higher power. It was 
not the death of his gloomy thoughts; but it was, perhaps, 
the germ of the higher element in man’s being. 

“ 1 can not fly from myself,” he thought; “ even there, 
these thoughts would follow me; and, besides, I should 
have been a coward — 1 should have acted as if all my past 
life and my past ideas of doing some good to my fellow- 
creatures were a sham. They may be; but I must be sure 
of this first. It is too early to give up the struggle; too 
soon to acknowledge I am conquered by the knowledge that 
I am myself an outcast from the society of honest men, 
who care about a good and an honest name. Why should 
not a man make his own name, even if the struggle is hard? 
No, 1 do not care now for fame; ambition seems a worth- 
less thing, and Symee will not share my poverty or my 
wealth. ” 

Strong and clear came the conviction now that his post 
was here in these confined lodgings, and in Golden Spar- 
row Street. 

There had been a pause after Mr. Kestell had made his 
proposal, a pause which the old man had respected, watch- 
ing keenly the face before him. He could not guess the 
working of Jesse’s mind, but he saw a half smile gradually 
form itself on the lips that had before been so sternly 
pressed together. 

“ He will accept,” thought Mr. Kestell, with a sigh of 
relief. “ All will still be well.” 

The result, however, was far different from his expecta- 
tion. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Kestell, 1 am deeply grateful. If you 
had come yesterday, I would have said yes; to-day, from 
reasons which 1 will not trouble you with, 1 say no. But 
I am none the less grateful; the very knowledge of your 
kindness will help me — does help me, to say no. It gives 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 257 

me courage to stick to the old country, and to bear my 
misfortune like a man. ” 

Mr. Kestell listened to these words in sheer amazement; 
half of it he could not understand. What he did take in 
was, that if he had come yesterday, Jesse would have said 
yes. Was even chance against him? Was he now, after 
all these years of care for this youth, was he to have him 
turn against him? What was he saying or thinking? 
What did Jesse mean? It was pure nonsense; he must 
accept this offer. 

64 You would have accepted it yesterday, but not to-day. 
What do you mean, Vicary? Think of your sister.” 

Mr. Kestell saw what a mistake he had made in not 
bringing with him a letter from Symee, promising to join 
her brother in three years. 

This appeal, however, had not the desired effect. A 
sudden flush overspread Vicary’s face. He had by no 
means yet learned patience and humility. 

44 My sister has refused, sir, through your influence, to 
come and join me here, it is not likely I shall ask her to 
come and rough it on a lonely Canadian farm. Symee has 
chosen; I shall not ask her again.” 

Mr. Kestell was circumvented by his own precautions, 
and that by a young fellow whose proceedings had been 
perfectly straightforward. 

44 You refuse this offer?” 

44 Yes, sir, entirely. I shall never think better of it.” 

44 We shall see,” thought Mr. Kestell to himself. Aloud, 
lie added: 

44 Well, it’s no use saying anything more. I only hope 
Card & Lilley will be always able to give you work. There 
is a general falling off of business just now.” 

Jesse did not attach any importance to this last remark 
—indeed, he hardly noticed it; he was thinking that, come 
what might, he would try and find a new path in the old 
ways. 

44 Thank you for coming here with your offer,” repeated 
Jesse, wishing Mr. Kestell would go away, and yet taking 
himself to task for his ingratitude. 

Mr. Kestell waved his hand slightly, as if to refuse all 
thanks; he never had been one who expected expressions 
of gratitude — indeed, in an indirect manner he had rejected 

9 


258 


KESTELL OF GTIEYSTONE. 


them. He now took up his hat, cast his eyes around the 
room, and rose to go. 

4 4 Good-bye, Vicary. I hope you will never have to re- 
pent of your somewhat hasty resolutions; remember, I 
shall not repeat this offer. ” 

44 Of course not; I do not expect it, sir.” 

44 Very well. Good-evening, good-evening.” 

Jesse was standing up, too. From his greater height he 
could look down upon the slightly shorter man, whom all 
his life he had considered as the arbitrator of his fate. All 
that feeling seemed now to vanish forever; he was free, he 
had not accepted this last favor; but had voluntarily chosen 
a less easy path. He was free, he could say anything now, 
and quite suddenly a great rush of joy filled his brain, and 
out of this chaos of joy and pain, though the joy of free- 
dom predominated, he was impelled to ask a question. It 
was not premeditated, it was entirely spontaneous, and, 
without preface, he looked boldly into Mr. KestelFs face, 
with the gaze of earnest inquiry, in which pride was no 
longer visible, and said : 

44 Excuse me, Mr. Kestell, one moment. There is a 
question I must put to you. You know all my history, 
you know the secret of my unhappy birth. Tell me honest- 
ly who was my father?” 

A livid hue seemed to spread over Mr. KestelFs face; 
the living light which most eyes reflect and which appears 
to us to be the symbol of the soul, died down. He did not 
lower his eyes; on the contrary, as if by force of will, he 
remained gazing at Jesse, with one hand still on the handle 
of the door and the other holding his hat. 

44 Why does he not answer?” thought Jesse, hotly, the 
lower motive of passionate impatience at his lot gaining the 
mastery. 44 Why does he look like this? Good heavens! 
what is the mystery? It can be of little importance to 
this rich man.” Then a terrible suspicion swept over 
him; only long habits of respect prevented him from 
seizing the old man by the arm and compelling him to 
answer; as it was, he repeated fiercely: 

44 Mr. Kestell, if you know, 1, too, have a right to 
know.” 

44 1 — I can not tell you, Vicary,” was the answer; and 
before Jesse could do more than make one step forward, 
Mr. Kestell was gone. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


259 


CHAPTER XI. 

THICK DARKNESS. 

With his head sunk on the table, Jesse remained for a 
long time trying to calm himself. It seemed as if, in that 
moment of question and answer between the two men, the 
devil had taken possession of him. All the noble thoughts 
which had filled his mind, and which had been the cause of 
his rejection of Mr. KestelPs offer, were suddenly swept 
away, only a raging feeling of anger against the so-called 
benefactor was left behind. But Jesse did nothing; he did 
not even try to follow him except in imagination; and in 
this imaginary picture he seized him by the throat, and 
bade him, as he valued his life, stand and deliver his 
secret. 

“ It is a bad one, or he would not have looked like that. 
He is implicated in it. What a fool, what an idiot I have 
been not to see this before! Why has he spent his money 
on me since my childhood? Philanthropy! curse the 
word, it does not exist. The man who can look as he did 
this moment can have none, none, none. Yet it is this 
man under whose roof Symee has lived her useless life, un- 
der his roof — Good heavens! Ah! — I can see it now, the 
thread of the whole plot. This benevolence, this anxiety 
for my welfare, it has been all a plot to hide his own sins. 
Hypocrite, thousand times hypocrite, he wishes me now to 
go to Canada, away from the old country, away from him. 
This offer — why, it was all a plant, most likely. He has 
bought this farm, and wishes really to give it to me as my 
inheritance— to give it to me, to me. No, by Heaven, 
never! not a penny of his money shall I ever touch again. 
Yes, I see it all as clear as the sunshine. This very work 1 
am doing, is it honestly got? Well, that must be honest, 
in spite of him. I give the worth and more than the 
worth of my money.” 

He experienced a moment of relief at this one thought 
of something clear and honest. The misery he had en- 
dured in the past seemed as nothing when compared with 
this. He had looked into the abyss before. Now he 
clearly saw it. He was in it. 

Again he went slowly back over the past. It was as the 


2(30 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


searching of a beast of prey over past hunting-grounds 
trying to discover where the pitfalls had been placed for 
him by man, his enemy. 

“ He kept me within reach, and yet away from him; and 
Symee — Ah, this is the hardest to bear. Symee, my sis- 
ter, my sister!” 

He could not bear the thought. He started up to his 
full height, and any one present would have been fright- 
ened to see the change in Jesse Vicary’s face. He looked 
years older, a man now possessed of terrible power for evil 
as well as for good. He went to the window and threw it 
open, not noticing the chill, foggy evening air that swept 
in. He felt as if he were in a stifling place, and as if he 
would be suffocated with the burden of his wrath. 

“And how near I was to accepting that offer,” he 
thought again and again. “ Then he would have got rid 
of me and Symee forever. That benevolent face might 
have gone on and cheated others as it has cheated me; but, 
at least, now I am free, free to carry out his punishment, 
I will register a vow — I do — that I will bring him to jus- 
tice; not legal justice, there is none in this land. A rich 
man can boast of being unjust. Ah! he has kept himself 
well within the false legal palings; he has provided for us 
amply — nobly — ” Here Jesse laughed aloud; but let no 
one wish to hear a man laugh at his enemy. There is 
something that speaks too plainly in it of a hideous spirit 
of evil. “ No, I will bring him a punishment lie will quail 
before far more than anything the law could do to him. 
Kestell of Greystone — that sounds well enough. I have 
often said it approvingly; but it may yet be humbled and 
brought to shame. For what? For doing what hundreds 
have done before him. No, that will bring no shame. 
The world will praise him for making me what I am — able 
to stand alone; able to be free of him and of every one 
else. There must be other punishments reserved by 
Heaven for such deeds. Mr. KestelFs generosity was bit- 
ter before; but now it is unbearable.” ' 

The room was too small for him. Seizing his hat, Jesse 
rushed away from his lodgings. Anywhere, out into the 
street; he wanted to get away from himself, from the Jesse 
who had honored this Kestell of Greystone, and had all his 
life striven to please him. He wauted to undo the past, 
and knew not how to set about it. 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


26 1 


How long Jesse wandered about through squalid streets 
he never knew or remembered; but that he did come in at 
all that night was due to 'Liza. Jesse had so long been 
used to think of others that he involuntarily did so now. 
Poor sleepy 'Liza would have to sit up till he came in, for 
she was a very devoted maiden, and would never go to bed 
till Mr. Vicary had had his supper. 

Little actions often bring about great results; and so it 
happened that Jesse Vicary went to bed that night because 
'Liza sat up for him. 

“ Lor', Mr. Vicary, you be late. 1 most a- thought you 
had been run'd over," she said; “ but there's the supper 
ready, and I've kept the kettle on the boil, and missus she 
said you'd never done such a thing in your life before as 
stay out so late."- 

Jesse smiled now, and, though it was rather cheerless, 
this smile had all the sweetness which lay at the bottom of 
this man's nature in it. 

66 No, no, 'Liza, I'm not 4 run'd over;' not in your sense 
of the word, anyhow. Go off to bed at once. I am sorry 
I have kept you up so late. " 

‘"You're never a-goin' to sit up later, Mr. Vicary, are 
you? Them nasty books are no use at this time of night." 

“ No, you're right. Well, there, 'Liza, I'm going to 
bed," said Jesse, to get rid of 'Liza; and after that he had 
to keep his word. 

He woke up in no better frame of mind, and once more 
the same fierce reasoning went on surging and revolving in 
his brain. He was now only anxious to get calm enough 
to think out a connected plan of action; but in the mean- 
time he must go to his work as usual, and life must jog on 
in its customary dull routine, just as if he had not discov- 
ered the secret of his life, and as if everything in the world 
depended on the business transactions of the firm of Card 
& Lilley. 

When he returned home he half thought he would go 
and begin the scheme he was slowly trying to evolve, by 
visiting Obed Diggings and having a talk with him. The 
thought even crossed Jesse's mind whether, if he took the 
inventor into a public-house and treated him freely, his 
memory would not be made clearer about the past; but he 


262 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


at once rejected the idea as unworthy of himself, or of any 
man who respected his fellow-creatures. 

However, as he thought he could speak more freely if 
Obed came to him, he wrote a note, telling Diggings to 
call that evening if he could, and if not, the next night. 
That poor girl of his should hear nothing of the sins of 
sinful humanity. 

Then he sat down calmly to make a clear, defined, well- 
considered plan for bringing Mr. Kestell to justice — the 
justice of public opinion; the justice which would not allow 
an evil deed to be called benevolence, or cowardly silence 
philanthropy. 

He would be quite calm, quite dispassionate, till all was 
ready for exposure. He, Jesse, had felt all the burden of 
private shame — shame of his own being. Let the author 
of it now feel it in some measure also, if he could, and let 
him experience what would touch him keenly — public dis- 
grace. 

He sat down, and fancied he was going to see the clear 
plan of his campaign evolve itself; but instead of this he 
still sat on almost stupidly;, the high pressure of feeling of 
the day before had exhausted him; he knew not where to 
begin, or what to do? Where was his proof? How could 
he, Jesse Vicary, bring Mr. Kestell of Greystone to justice? 
He went over the short scene of the day before, gazing as 
he did so at the spot where Mr. Kestell had stood. Proof! 
what more was needed than that face, that ghastly hue, 
and that expression of guilt? Certainly nothing more was 
needed for him, Vicary; but for the world? Those words, 
“ I can not tell,” were no proof, none whatever; it was 
Jesse’s duty patiently to labor till he had found one. 

Jesse Vicary had neither the money nor the opportunity 
for this difficult and delicate bringing together of facts; 
he saw this well enough, but it made no difference to him. 

“ It may take me months, years, but I shall do it,” he 
said. “ I must be prudent and cautious; I must be my 
own counselor and my own lawyer, if every man’s hand is 
against me. Let me trust to myself alone.” 

At this moment there was a knock at the door, and 
Jesse said, ‘‘Come in,” without troubling himself to get 
up. ’Liza’s advent was of little importance to him. Or, 
perhaps it was only Diggings. But he was startled by the 


KESTELL OF OBEY STONE. 263 

voice which hacl once attracted him so much, the voice of 
Hoel Fenner. 

44 Vicary! What, in a brown, a deep-brown study?” 

Jesse started up, and held out his hand; but Hoel at 
once noticed the change in his face. 

44 Mr. Fenner, I did not expect you! I have heard noth- 
ing of you for a long time.” 

Hoel felt the implied reproach; for, once more in Jesse’s 
presence, he experienced the same curious attraction which 
had first drawn him to this strange anomaly; this combi- 
nation of power without wealth or prestige, and of strength 
without any much-advertised show of it. But this Jesse 
Vicary was changed from the Vicary he had first befriend- 
ed. He seemed at once to see this, and Jesse took no 
trouble to hide it or to put on his old calm, hopeful man- 
ner. 

44 No; you disappeared like a meteor after your refusal, 
and 1 have been laid up ever since at Rushbrook. Now, 
however, I am coming back to work. May I sit down? 5 ’ 
for Jesse had not even offered a chair to his visitor. 
44 What’s the matter, my dear fellow? Do you know 1 
have not quite forgiven you for throwing us over as you 
did, after having made me believe that you were thirsting 
for literary work? Of course Mr. Kestell did give in, as I 
predicted, and then — well, then — ” 

44 Yes, 1 refused,” said Vicary. 44 Mr. Kestell did not 
really wish me to accept; but I did it out of my own free 
will, entirely.” 

44 Yes, I thought as much. You are not easily led by 
others. 1 suppose I must not ask what were your reasons 
at the last moment. I was rather put to it to explain it to 
the chief; but of course a post like that does not go beg- 
ging. I fear I shall not get the chance again of offering 
it to any one, and yet the fellow we have is not half so well 
fitted for the place as you would have been. He is sharp 
and clever, certainly; but he misses your — what shall I call 
it? — your more original view of men and things.” 

This praise — for it was no flattery — would, a few weeks 
ago, have made Jesse Vicary a proud and a happy man; 
but now he was quite impervious to praise or blame. 

Hoel was so much surprised at this strange conduct that 
it recalled to him the curious exodus of Vicary from Rush- 
brook and the unexplained reason of the rejection of his 


264 KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 

offer. Was it possible that Mr. Kestell knew, and had 
something to do with it? 

Jesse himself was touched by the appearance of Mr. 
Fenner in the darkest hour of his trial. lie almost wished 
he could confide in him, and yet how was it possible? "Was 
not Mr. Fenner — Symee had told him — the accepted lover 
of Miss Elva? How could he, without proof, bring the 
charge against this man's future father-in-law? The irony 
of fate made him smile contemptuously. Should he or 
should he not say anything to Mr. Fenner? It was a diffi- 
cult question to decide, and yet this man, clever, polished, 
and prosperous, was the only being who had held out some- 
thing better than the hand of pity to Jesse, even if it had 
not quite been the right hand of fellowship. 

The pause that followed Hoel's last words — and during 
which Jesse had wearily turned the question over — was 
broken by Hoel saying: 

44 Something has gone wrong. I won't worry you to- 
night; I only came to hunt you up in case you still wanted 
occasional work. Also I — 1 thought I should like you to 
know, Vicary — I dare say you do know already — that I am 
going to marry Miss Kestell in January. It seems curious 
that when 1 first knew you I never guessed at the connec- 
tion you had with Rushbrook, nor how interested I myself 
should be in it soon." 

44 1 do wish you joy, sir. My sister told me the news." 
Then fiercely Jesse added: “ Mr. Kestell was here last 
evening. " 

44 Was he? He telegraphed that important business had 
obliged him to come to town. I left this morning, so I 
did not see him again." 

44 Important business? Perhaps his offer to me was 
what he meant." 

There was no disguising the bitterness of the tone, and 
Hoel knew at once that Vicary's strange state of mind was 
somehow connected with Mr. Kestell. 

44 His offer to you?" 

44 Yes, he wants to get me out of the country. He offers 
me a farm in Canada, but 1 have refused. Thank good- 
ness, I am free of him and his offers forever. " 

Hoel had always before now heard Jesse speak in tones 
of deepest gratitude of his patron, so lie was utterly sur- 
prised at this new development. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


265 


“ But might not his offer be made in pure kindness, be- 
cause of your refusal of our opening? Don’t you think 
you have taken the thing as it was not meant to be taken? 
Come, Vicary, 1 think you are a little unreasonable.” 

Hoel spoke half seriously, half lightly, feeling at a loss 
to unravel Jesse’s altered demeanor. Jesse did not answer 
for a few moments. He was trying to curb his emotion, 
trying to school himself to be calm, and not to disclose his 
secret to anyone till the full truth should be discovered; 
but Hoel had attracted Jesse by that easy sympathy which 
no one else but he had given to the unknown clerk; and, 
in spite of his resolution, Jesse craved for sympathy as 
every noble soul does crave; for it is the man who has no 
sympathy to offer who most often rejects it when it is 
offered to him. 

In spite of himself, as it seemed, Jesse once again ap- 
pealed to Hoel. 

“ I don’t know why you are good enough to take any in- 
terest in my affairs, Mr. Fenner; but as you do, I may as 
well partly explain why 1 am angry with Mr. Kestell, the 
man whom you have heard me speak of with so much 
gratitude. I am afraid of saying what I should not, con- 
sidering that you will soon be one of the family.” 

“ Why, it is just for that reason, Vicary, that you can 
speak out. Mr. Kestell does not guess, I am sure, that 
he has rubbed you up the wrong way, so to speak, and it 
will be my duty to set matters straight between you. In- 
deed, honestly, Vicary, I have never heard him speak but 
most kindly of you, and I know he has the highest opinion 
of you. There must be some little misunderstanding, 
which can easily be set right. One sometimes gets to brood- 
ing about imaginary wrongs. I can speak from personal 
experience. My own uncle once upset my — what shall I 
call it? — my pride, and that little rift is not yet meuded. 
Indeed now it has become such a permanent barrier that it 
has ceased to annoy me at all. But 1 am not sure whether, 
if, long ago, some third person had intervened, matters 
might not have been different and happier for both of us.” 

Jesse settled, then and there, to speak the truth to Hoel, 
but not the whole truth now — that was impossible. 

“ You may be right, Mr. Fenner, but I — well, the ques- 
tion may make you smile, but it is of great importance to 
me. I want to find out the truth about my origin. I am 


266 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


afraid there is nothing pleasant to find out, but Mr. Kes- 
tell knows it, and he refuses to tell me. Let it be bad — he 
acknowledged as much — but, anyhow, 1 am a man, and I 
must find it out. I have a right to know.” 

To himself Hoel said: 44 Poor fellow! I/s a pity he has 
feelings on that score. I dare say it is bad, and Mr. Kes- 
tell wishes to spare him. 1 understand it perfectly.” 

46 What purpose would be served by a statement of plain 
and perhaps unpalatable facts?” he said, aloud. 

44 Possibly none; but I wish to know the worst. What 
I am sure of, is this. My mother and grandmother lodged 
for a short time in a cottage, near the brow of Kushbrook 
Beacon. 1 got this from an old Mrs. Joyce, who was their 
neighbor at the time and knew them. My mother was 
young and pretty; Mrs. Joyce called her Mrs. Vicary, and 
yet believes her to have been own daughter to the old 
woman of the same name. You understand, Mr. Fenner. 
If Mr. Kestell knows it, have 1 not the right to ask for the 
name of my father? My mother died soon after the birth 
of her twins, the old woman shortly after. With them, it 
might seem, died the secret. They talked, certainly, of a 
husband abroad, and of his death; anyhow, he never ap- 
peared; he never came forward, and, alas, in these cases it 
is not often that the truth is told. Did he die, or was he 
abroad? It may be a foolish wish; but, anyhow, forgive 
me if I sjDeak strongly, I am determined to find out the 
name of my father, even if he refuses to let me legally call 
myself his son.”* 

Jesse spoke in a low, suppressed voice, he hardly dared 
trust himself to stop till all was said. To Hoel this speech 
did seem to make a mountain out of a mole-hill; still he 
was ready to offer his help. 

44 Very well, Vicary, I am ready to help you; 1 see it is 
useless to say 4 let it alone/ Besides, there can be no very 
great difficulty. Without Mr. KestelFs help I can find 
out all there is to know. I feel sure Jiis silence is merely 
a wish to spare you some sad, but common story of deser- 
tion. Look upon me as a friend, and give me a week to 
find it out in. Do nothing yourself during that time, and 
I will bring you the answer.” 

Jesse paused and considered, then he said gratefully: 

44 Thank you. For a week I will do nothing. ” 


KESTELL OF G RET STONE. 


267 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE UNSIGNED WILL. 

Hoel had undertaken a task without counting the cost; 
and when he was indulging in his evening pipe, he saw 
that he had done rather a foolish thing. In the first place, 
Mr. Kestell had, of course, some excellent reason for with- 
holding the truth; and not even for a moment did Hoel 
doubt that his future father-in-law’s reason was good. The 
idea that had taken possession of Jesse, did not even enter 
his bairn. Still, he could not help puzzling a little why 
there should be any mystery about what was, most likely, 
a very ordinary case. 

“ I should say,” meditated Hoel, “ that the father was 
some friend of Kestell, and that, in the capacity of law- 
yer, he looked after these luckless twins. Most likely, he 
was given a sum of money for the purpose, and was bound 
down to secrecy. Of course that is it; it *is as plain as a 
sign-post. It is far better for Vicary to accept his position, 
such as he can make it; and if he were not a little wrong- 
headed, he could have made it a splendid one. It seems to 
me I have undertaken a foolish task. Mr. Kestell, being 
a man of honor, is bound by a promise. Still, I am not; 
and, of course, were he not bound, he. would have no 
earthly objection to telling Vicary everything he cared to 
know ; Vicary takes the consequence on his own head. It 
is, after- all, a simple matter, and, were I a lawyer, I 
should soon unearth the secret. Well, it might be un- 
pleasant for Mr. Kestell if he thought he had to refuse me, 
if I asked him the question point-blank; or, if he told me, 
he might also bind me to secrecy. I think I’ll work on 
my own lines. I’ll run down to Greystone, and from 
there I can go to the village and hunt up a few facts. The 
two women came from somewhere, I conclude, and did not 
drop from the clouds. Registers of births, deaths, and 
marriages tell their tale pretty plainly; and, in these out- 
of-the-way places, tradition is strong. The only awkward 
part is appearing to spy out the land unbeknown to my 
future father-in-law, who, by the way, must possess some- 
what of a suspicious, secretive disposition, though he hides 
it well in ordinary life.” 


238 RESTS LL OF GREY STONE* 

Hoel resolved to go to Greystone the next day; but the 
morning post brought him two letters which changed his 
mind. The one he first opened was from Elva. Such a 
happy letter* full of trust in Hoel and very unconcealed 
admiration. The little cloud had blown over; she was 
only ready to take his word and his opinion in everything. 
She made a beautiful picture of him in a mirror of her 
own* and then described to her lover what she saw. The 
originality of her views peeped out in delightful little sen- 
tences* the merit of which Hoel was well able to appreciate. 
He was even slightly glad that he was aware of this, and 
that Elva was ignorant of her own merits. In his matured 
mind, a woman lost much of her charm of cleverness when 
she became conscious of possessing it. And just now, Elva 
was conscious of nothing but of her great love for Hoel. It 
was best so; by and by, Hoel could himself watch over any 
dawning feeling of separate identity, and* if necessary, he 
could smother it at its birth. A wife must have but one 
view; her horizon must be bounded by a lower line than 
that at which har husband gazes. Anyhow, it must never 
be placed further. 

He read the last page twice over, and was satisfied* and 
we know Hoel was not easily contented with mediocrity. 

“ Dear Hoel* — When you were really gone 1 began to 
realize my loss, even though it is for such a short time. 1 
think there must be some natures who are created imper- 
fect, so that their happiness may be given to them in the 
shape of a complementary human being, without Whom 
they can not recognize their own natures. I have had a 
happy life, you know, and yet it is only now that I have 
suddenly discovered I was not really living before. I 
wanted you to teach me myself. You will understand this, 
although I can not explain it. Words seem such poor 
things to give to those we love; we want to give our fresh- 
created thoughts in all their perfection jand imperfection. 
I have often tried to make Nature understand what I mean 
when I lie down on a bank of heather in summer* or sit by 
one of the Pools; but now I see how far, far above Nature 
is one human soul. The trees and the wind, everything 
we see, are all so intensely above us and below us; above 
us in their irritating calmness, and below us in their want 
of sympathy with suffering and joy. There* 1 must not go 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOXE. 


269 


on writing like this; you will think me childish. But I 
feel so happy, my own dear Hoel, that I must say so even 
at the risk of you answering that I am foolish. You will 
teach me wisdom, won't you? I blame myself for being 
too much absorbed in our happiness. Books say this is 
natural, and yet 1 don't want to be just like everybody 
else. 

“ Since you left I see that papa is really unwell. I made 
him call in the doctor again. He suffers so much from 
sleeplessness. Doctor Pink says that is the cry of our 
modern men of business. 1 believe he does not like my 
going away; and yet I can not feel sorry to leave everybody 
as much as I ought to do. I don't believe any girl ever 
had a better father than mine. Such love and tenderness 
must be rare. If it were not that ! know his whole heart 
and mind is wrapped up in mamma, I don't think I could 
leave him, even for you, Hoel. There, what do you say 
to that? 1 am going to devote myself to my own family, 
sir, for these last few weeks, so do not expect much from 
me. Amice and I are going to take a secret expedition -to 
London this week — toward the end of it — and we do not 
want to see any one above the rank of a shopman, so I 
shall not even tell you the day. It will do Amice good to 
see the wicked world. Your loving 

, ' “ Elya Kestell. " 

Hoel heaved a little sigh of utter contentment as he 
opened his second letter, which was from his uncle, and 
was short, if decided. 

“ Dear IIoel, — Come down at once to see me; I want 
to talk over your settlements with you. I don't think Mr. 
Kestell is doing enough for his daughter, considering that 
I hear his fortune is considerable, and he may live for 
years. Hunter will draw up the settlements; and I assure 
you he is a very sharp fellow. 

“ Your affectionate uncle, 

“Mellish Fexxer.” 

For a moment Hoel thought he would disobey the com- 
mand. He had made up his mind to go to Greystone after 
Jesse's business, and he had a good deal of work in town; 
but second thoughts made him decide to give in to his un- 


m 


KESTELL OF GTIEYSTOKE. 


cle. It is easy to be magnanimous when one is in a bliss- 
ful state of mind. He telegraphed that he would run 
down for the night; and then wrote a very hasty but lover- 
like letter to Elva. 

That same evening Hoel was sitting by his uncle’s in- 
valid -chair. 

Mellish Fenner was not by any means a man who in-* 
spired love; he had a fretful restlessness of manner, coupled 
with a slightly. cynical way of expressing his opinion, which 
grated on Hoel’s susceptibilities. The uncle was disap- 
pointed that his nephew had done very well without him, 
and yet even now he could not bring himself to treat him. 
as his son; he had no fault to find with him, but he secret- 
ly guessed that Hoel was not now capable of much grati- 
tude. Long ago this would have been different. There 
are many who can do nothing but curse their own short- 
sighted folly, and this occupation can not be enlivening. 
It had not improved the natural asperity of the elder man. 

JHoel had come down prepared to uphold all Mr. Kes- 
tell’s doings and arrangements. Mr. Mellish Fenner, on 
the contrary, was specially carping and contentious over 
the proposed settlements; but Hoel had determined to keep 
his temper, and he kept it. His uncle was further irri- 
tated by this perfect cheerfulness, out of which no dispute 
could be extracted. But at last Mellish Fenner spoke out: 

“ You insist qii accepting no advice, Hoel. I suppose 
all young men, nowadays, think they know better than 
their elders. You resemble the Pellews much more than 
any Fenner I ever knew, and the result with you will be 
the same as it was with most of them. Their obstinacy led 
them into every possible misfortune, and two or three went 
utterly to the dogs.” 

Hoel smiled good-naturedly, the sins and iniquities of 
these cousins once or twice removed touched him but little; 
but suddenly, however, he remembered Amice Kestell’s 
question: “ Who was John Pellew?” 

“ By the way, sir, talking of the Pellews, I find Mr. 
Kestell knew something of them. He mentioned them 
the other evening. Can you tell me anything about a 
John Pellew? Not the present man, of course, but a John 
Pellew of a former generation.” 

4 4 He was one of those who went to the dogs. He was 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 271 

the youngest son, and was, naturally, a fine fellow; but 
his obstinacy was boundless/’ 

46 And what did it do for him?” 

44 Oh, I knew nothing of him, he was my junior; but I 
saw him once when he came back from India, years ago. 
He had gone there in opposition to his family, and was 
secretary to some official, I believe. The last time he came 
home they wished to marry him very suitably; but he ut- 
terly refused, went back to India, and died soon after. 
And yet he was a very promising young fellow, and might 
have been anything he chose.” 

44 There was, surely, another John Pellew?” 

44 Oh, yes, but quite another sort of man; he made a 
great deal of money, and left one son, the present Godfrey. 
You don’t know him.” 

44 The other never married?” 

44 No; utterly refused a pretty wife and four thousand a 
year. His father never forgave him, and washed his hands 
of him after that.” 

44 You see, I have not quite followed in his footsteps,” 
smiled Hoel. 

44 Yes, you have, only in another way; here is a man as 
rich as Croesus, who offers you a miserable pittance with 
• his daughter. In these days, a wife is not kept on nothing 
in London. Besides — ” 

44 Elva is not extravagant.” 

44 1 shall write to Mr. Kestell. ” 

Hoel was irritated, but kept his temper. 

44 Then, pray write as my guardian, sir, ndt as my 
uncle. ” 

Mellish looked up at his nephew, he half put out his 
hand, and the words, 44 As your father,” were on the tip 
of his lips; but a bit of mechanism, long unoiled, refuses 
to work at a moment’s notice, and the words were not 
said. 

44 Very well. Now, my dear Hoel, I am tired; shall I 
see you in the morning?” 

44 1 am afraid not. I must take the first train. Thank 
you, sir, for the interest you take in my affairs; but, in- 
deed, I am anxious to spare you all trouble.” 

44 Yes, yes, Hoel, I believe you; but — Well, remem- 
ber I shali certainly write to Mr. Kestell.” 

When the door shut behind Hoel, Mellish Fenner wheeled 


272 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


himself to his writing-table and took out his will from a 
private drawer. It was all made out in very legal lan- 
guage, and it left everything he possessed to his nephew, 
Hoel Fenner; but at present it was waste paper, for it was 
not signed. 

‘‘I shall send for Hunter to-morrow,” he said, half 
aloud, 44 and I shall sign this; I intended it all along; but 
there was no hurry about the matter, no hurry whatever. 
1 wish I had told Hoel to-night; but the boy is provoking- 
ly independent. 1 shouldn 5 t like him to be cringing; but 
really — ah, well, 1 5 11 send for Hunter to-morrow, and write 
to Hoel in the evening/ 5 

Mellish Fenner put away his unsigned will and rang the 
bell for his servant. His bedroom was on the ground floor, 
HoeFs was upstairs; if this had not been the case, the in- 
valid would have gone in and told Hoel at once; but the 
extra trouble of sending again for his nephew prevented 
him. 44 There 5 s time enough to-morrow, 55 he thought. 

Fll tear up that old will, when I sign this one, 55 he 
thought. “ Of course I have no intention of leaving my 
money to Arthur Fenner, who is already rich; I thought 
of that when HoeFs father was so aggravatingly foolish, 
but 1 never meant it after 1 adopted Hoel. He has never 
given me any trouble, never. 55 

The next morning Hoel was called an hour earlier than 
he had ordered. 

64 Master Hoel, 55 said the old man-servant, looking pale 
and horrified as Hoel opened his eyes, “ master is ill — we 
have sent for the doctor; but — 55 

Hoel started up. 

44 Well? 55 

44 Oh, sir, the master 5 s dead. It is his heart. 55 

Before evening, Hoel knew that his uncle had not signed 
his will, and that he had not left him a penny. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AT THE GREYSTONE HOTEL. 

It was a new outlook for him, and Hoel was not quite 
prepared to face it. He had lived on a high level of ex- 
pecting nothing from his uncle, and had acted on these 
honorable and independent ideas; but in the background 


KESTELL OF GKEY STONE. 


273 


of his mind Hoel had fully expected that Hellish Fenner 
would leave him his fortune when he died. Hoel had 
judged rightly, and knew he had when the new will was 
discovered unsigned. 

He recognized now that he would have to live upon his 
own income in the future without the delightful salve of 
showing his uncle that he could do without him, and, as 
we have said, the idea was not pleasant. True, he was on 
the eve of marrying a rich wife, but this was the very feel- 
ing which had previously galled him, and which had only 
been softened by the moral certainty of his uncle’s inten- 
tions. One moment, and all this had ended. 

Hoel behaved with conventional propriety; he deter- 
mined to betray no sign of resentment or surprise. The 
family lawyer, Mr. Hunter, came and promised to under- 
take all the necessary business. Without a word Hoel 
handed him the unsigned will, which he had discovered in 
his uncle’s drawer. 

6 4 He meant this one,” said the lawyer, much annoyed, 
44 he really did, Mr. Fenner. It was only last week that 
he told me he should want me about his new will.” 

Hoel smiled. What a lie can be hidden in a smile! 

44 Only he put it oft*. But you know, Mr. Hunter, I 
never expected anything from my uncle.” 

44 You have always been exemplary,” said the lawyer, 
distressed beyond measure. 44 But your cousin will cer- 
tainly not accept the — mistake.” 

44 Why not? It was a chance. Pray think nothing of 
it. I should certainly not accept a gift from a distant re- 
lation. Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Hunter, 1 am 
quite unable at this moment to leave town, so you will 
kindly do all that is necessary. I shall come to the 
funeral.” 

Mr. Hunter was not taken in; his only consolation was 
that Hoel had a good prospect of being a rich man in spite 
of his uncle’s mistake. Still, it was the look of the thing 
which made the lawyer angry. It was just like Mr. Fen- 
ner to put off doing what was right because of some stupid 
reasoning. What would the world say? 

In the meanwhile, Hoel returned to London, and wrote 
to Elva, saying that his uncle’s sudden death need not post- 
pone their wedding. It would only be necssary to have a 


274 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


very quiet affair; and that they would both prefer. He 
said nothing about money. 

“ That will be known on the day of the funeral/* 
thought Hoel, “ and by that time 1 shall have become 
quite reconciled to the inevitable, and ready to smile at 
what the world thinks.** 

There are some events which make a deep dent in the 
character, even when that character is formed. Hoel felt 
that this was now the case with him. He was pulled up 
short, and was forced to look back at his own conduct. 
He had so much prided himself on his dealings with Mellish 
Fenner; they had been so irreproachable, and yet — was 
this result altogether his uncle*s fault? If he had con- 
ducted .himself less as an equal with the old man, and had 
given him more patient affection, even with the same re- 
sult, the position would not be so irritating as it now was. 

Very dimly Hoel began to realize that his own life had 
been all along a beautiful sham, an idol set up for his own 
worship, a galvanized lay figure. He put away the idea 
from his mind again and again, and yet back it came, as 
if worked by a self-acting spring. He was, he always had 
been, a sham, and there was every probability that he 
would be one to the end of his life. 

For how could a man of his age alter? No, the idea was 
ridiculous. Better brave it all out on the old system, bet- 
ter be the gentlemanly, the clever, the agreeable, the irre- 
proachable Hoel Fenner to the end of the chapter, than 
begin again at the beginning. 

Worse thought, was it this sham that Elva was setting 
up also to worship? Was he trying to persuade her that 
his hollow perfection was a satisfying ideal for a woman 
whose charm was intense reality? Why not, if she were 
satisfied, why trouble her ideal? 

Hoel spent a bad hour over all these gloomy ideas, and 
at the end of it he threw away a cigar which seemed tainted 
with sham, and recollected that three days had gone by, 
and that Jesse Vicary*s week was passing away. 

Action is the only relief to some dismal thoughts, and 
Hoel determined to run down to Greystone the next morn- 
ing. To make this possible he had a few matters to see 
after; «and hoping the effort would be once for all, he 
thrust away his gloomy subject of meditation, and re- 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 275 

turned to the ordinary habitation of the natural man — 
Hoel. 

His programme was simple, and he believed would be 
quite efficacious. Most likely Elva would not be at home, 
so there would be little likelihood of meeting her. He 
would keep his visit a secret, or invent an excuse if he were 
found out, about some arrangements as to farms or other 
business, which convenient word, as we know, covers a 
multitude of extraneous matter when used by a man to a 
woman. The thought of Jesse Vicary seemed to be espe- 
cially acceptable to Hoel just now. It represented a sim- 
ple figure, and no complex sham about it, and yet a man 
who could err, as he certainly was doing, in this matter of 
Mr. Kestell. The whole business was foolish, and the 
sooner it was set straight the better. To a man whose 
ideal of self has just been slightly shaken, it is a great 
panacea to pose as a reformer or a mediator. That is a 
character which every one admires, and which no one need 
mind claiming. It fills the abased soul with nerw oil of 
gladness, and helps to restore the fallen idol. 

The Greystone Hotel was dull and respectable; and 
Hoel, smiling at the strange circumstance which made him 
put up here, instead of being a guest at the luxurious house 
of Mr. Kestell, deposited his modest portmanteau, ordered 
a late dinner, and then started out for his delicious walk 
across the heather lands. Though colder than it had been, 
the sun was shining brightly. All Nature was rejoicing 
in her own beauty, so that Hoel was carried back to the 
day when he had first seen Elva on her native heath. 

There was a haze over the forest land when, at last, he 
reached the solitary cottage at the foot of the Beacon. 
Before entering he paused and looked around. The shadow 
and the sunlight were alike softened by the thin veil of 
mist. A distant song of a bird was heard, then the sough- 
ing of the wind among the trees near at hand, waving the 
yellow, large-fronded bracken at their base. 

Below him he could discern the clear pool, partly blue 
and partly shadowed; turning his head a little, he could 
see the bank where Elva had sat unconscious of his admir- 
ing gaze. He looked toward the trees of Rushbrook, and 
wondered whether he should not be forced to run down 
and see Elva just for a minute. On the other hand, she 


276 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE* 


might not be there, and he might only find Mr. Kestell or 
Amice. That would be too disappointing. Ah, by the 
way, he must write to Amice about John Pellew. In the 
shock of that sudden death he had forgotten her anxiety 
to know about John Pellew. 

Hoel pulled himself together and dismissed these at- 
tractive thoughts. He had come to do a service to Vicary. 
He must make haste and get it over, so as to return to 
town early next morning. 

So, walking up to the cottage, he knocked at the door, 
and entered, just as Jesse himself had done some weeks 
before. 

The knock was answered by the old womans 44 Come 
in.” She was quite alone. Her daughter and the chil- 
dren were all out, and she was knitting contentedly. Hoel 
had prepared his introduction, and was ready with it. 

44 Good -afternoon, Mrs. Joyce. FonT disturb yourself. 
I am Mr. Fenner, a friend of Jesse Vicary; and he told 
me you were glad to hear about your grandchild from any 
one who knew him.” 

44 Thank you, sir. Come in and take a chair. Pm that 
crippled with rheumatism that I can't move much. Well, 
yes; we be glad to hear of ? Liza. She*s a good girl, is 
TJza, and Mr. Vicary is mighty kind to our girl. There’s 
not many young men like he, sir.” 

After this it was not difficult to launch into the subject 
of Jesse, and gradually to lead it round to the time when 
old Mrs. Joyce was wondering about the pretty young 
woman who was lodging in the cottage below, with her 
mother. 

44 You never saw the father?” asked Hoel. 

44 No, sir; and to tell you the truth, sir, I think the poor 
young thing never had a lawful husband. When a wife is 
a wife, why, there’s nothing as will stop her talking about 
her husband; but both mother and daughter were mighty 
close on that subject. He was abroad, and always com- 
ing back; but never did he come. And when it was con- 
venient, then the mother said he was dead. I mind the 
day the twins were born, sir, and how old Mrs. Vicary 
took on so till Mr. Kestell come up to her.” 

44 Poor things! The mother was pretty, you say?” 

44 Pretty! Lor', sir, she was a pretty gal. Mr. Vicary 
don’t favor her at all; no more does the sister; though 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


277 


when I see her I can fancy 1'm looking at a bad likeness 
of the mother. She was too pretty, sir, for a poor girl. 
IFs the ruin of them often, when their looks is merely 
useful for show. Fm not the one to throw stones; but 
Fm sure that poor thing was never a wife, as the church 
made, albeit her mother stuck by her so, as a mother 
should do, seeing if she had brought up her girl better 
these misfortunes wouldn't happen/' 

Hoel could get no more information, except as to the 
name of the village, the other side of the high table-land 
of forest which bounded the horizon. 

“ They came from Crowcutt, so I understood; but, as 1 
said, they were very close — both mother and daughter." 

Hoel turned the conversation, so as to avert all suspicion 
from Mrs. Joyce's mind, and after some more ordinary 
talk he took his leave. 

Crowcutt was a good walk, but he had time, and he 
would enjoy the tramp across the moorland. The only 
difficulty was, that he must pass close by Rushbrook, and 
take the path by the Home Farm; however, he hoped fort- 
une would favor him, and that he would meet no one. 

Jesse's story now and then came uppermost in his mind; 
it seemed to open out once more the problems of life which 
Hoel had been accustomed to accept as inevitable. His 
well-regulated mind — for thus he styled it to himself — had 
made no illusions on the subject, he had neither soared to 
the height of believing in moral perfection on earth, nor 
had he sunk to a platform where such subjects are treated 
as merely questions of self-interest; no, Hoel had kept to 
that happy mean which may perhaps be more fatal to the 
improvement of a character than the lowest depth. Some 
catastrophe may startle the reprobate into improvement; 
but what can rouse the self-satisfied? 

At present, Hoel had nothing of the spirit which once 
made a man exclaim: 44 1 should die with hunger were I at 
peace with the world." In this sense, Hoel was never 
hungry, and, till now, he had had a cordial understanding 
with the world! He had thought out problems as often as 
do most clever men, and on every question he had brought 
his learning, his acute perception, his more than ordinary 
acumen to bear; but one thing Hoel had never given to 
abstract question, nay, had never given to any one or any- 
thing — his soul. Philosophers will laugh at this visionary 


278 


KESTELL OE GftEYSTONE. 


word, men of science will ask us where the soul resides; 
but every one who has the power of giving that which we 
call his soul to a subject, will understand, without any 
definition, what that state is which makes some men take 
hold of a subject— mot as one takes up a piece of delicate 
china— but with all the loving force and energy that one 
holds what is one's most precious possession. 

Now, at last, Hoel reached one of the great landmark 
clumps before mentioned. It was not the same which he 
had climbed with Elva, but at some distance from that; 
from here he could look down on Crowcutt, which might 
be about two miles off. Here was the object of his jour- 
ney, and, at present there seemed quite a comforting end; 
he was doing something for somebody besides himself, 
something for the one man who had first roused him to a 
belief in an invisible power apart from character. In try- 
ing to find out all he could about his parentage, he would 
help to calm down this man's misguided anger, he would 
perhaps get new ideas about social subjects, such as the 
far-stretching obligations of responsibility; he might even 
get some clew about the father who had cared so little for 
Jesse, a son who had now begun to wage war against his 
own name and origin. He might — but with a strange 
smile at himself and his new mission, Hoel Fenner pulled 
himself together and said aloud: 

44 Dreaming is certainly not my object for coming here. 
1 want bare facts, not fiction; by to-morrow 1 shall be able 
to satisfy Jesse Vicary that life must be accepted in the 
shape which the gods give us. It must be the sign of a 
weak nature to fret over the inevitable; but Vicary will 
soon see reason, even the soundest oak will warp before it 
is properly seasoned, and the noble fellow has to learn 
this." 

Then Hoel walked rapidly down to Crowcutt. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

HOEL KNOWS ALL. 

Amice Kestell had been waiting patiently for guidance; 
she had become more silent, more shy and frightened in 
the presence of her parents; even with Elva she now and 
then seemed to have lost her old trust. She was like a 
person who is always listening for the arrival of some one. 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTO.NE. 


279 


Had Elva been less busy, and less taken up with her own 
affairs, she would have been more keenly alive to her sis- 
ter's strange looks and conduct. As it was, she only made 
happy plans for the future; Amice should often stay in 
London with her, and she would be brought forward, and 
lose her shyness in the pleasure of having her musical 
talents appreciated. 

Just now Amice's spirituality somewhat jarred on Elva; 
she could not feel much response herself, and the glimpses 
of a possible life of sacrifice faded away. This was natu- 
ral, considering Hoel filled up all her heart and her mind. 

It so happened that Elva’s approaching wedding had 
much excited her cousins, the Fitzgeralds, and that a press- 
ing invitation to come to town had arrived on the same day 
that Elva had written to Hoel. Mrs. Kestell was so anx- 
ious that her daughter should accept, that Elva reluctantly 
agreed to go and spend two nights in London, and get 
through her shopping with her cousins’ help, instead of 
going up with Amice for the day. It was impossible for 
them both to leave home together, for Mrs. Kestell could 
not bear the idea of being without one daughter; and Elva, 
knowing how busy she should be, and that most likely Hoel 
would be seeing after his uncle's affairs, determined not to 
tell him. Besides, the Fitzgeralds were so very foolish 
and so fast that Hoel would not like them; he was so par- 
ticular about women, and his creed about them included a 
clause against flirting. 

Amice seemed almost glad to be alone; she had to put 
such a strain upon herself in order to appear at all cheer- 
ful, that she looked forward to two days of intense quiet. 
She determined that she would somehow manage not to be 
alone with her father, for it was this she so much dreaded. 

Almost unconsciously, when she had done her usual cot- 
tage-visiting, she turned her steps toward the Home Farm. 
The silence of the woods was so calming, and here she 
could think out her plan about Symee. Whenever she 
passed the spot where she had found Jesse that memorable 
evening, the whole scene came back painfully to her. Some 
minds cau recall so vividly, that it almost seems to them 
as if they saw with their worldly eyes the scenes they im- 
agine. 

To-day, as Amice passed the spot, she stopped involun- 
tarily; she fancied she saw Jesse sitting there, plunged in 


280 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


despair; she fancied that once more she beheld the dejected 
figure, the look of misery on the strong features, the . . . 

Amice had an inward shudder; she pressed her hand over 
her eyes. Was the curse coming upon her again, that past 
scenes forced themselves on her as new realities, for surely 
in the same spot, in the same attitude, Jesse was there! 

Her heart seemed to stop beating, wild fancies rushed 
through her brain that Jesse had appeared to her again to 
claim her help against something — or somebody, that she 
had waited too long, and that Herbert Heaton had not yet 
been to London. 

She seemed rooted to the spot, not daring to approach 
nearer to that figure, for fear it should vanish into thin 
air, and thus confirm her belief that it was a spirit come to 
reproach her; but Amice was brave. In another moment 
she resolved to go forward, and just as the quiet evening 
breeze swept through the tall firs and shook the dead, 
crisp branches, she took a step forward and murmured, 
“Mr. Vicary." 

The figure started up. It was no ghost; yet it was not 
Jesse that suddenly turned toward her, but Hoel Fenner! 

Amice was not prepared for HoeFs appearance in this 
spot. But this fact did not startle her. She knew Elva 
had not told him she was in London, so his presence could 
not concern her sister; but what did startle her now was 
the expression of HoeFs face. To her poor, overwrought 
brain it seemed to be merely a repetition of Jesse Vicary's 
look, only worse, for Jesse's usual expression was some- 
what grave and severe, while HoeFs had been always placid 
and calm. For three or four seconds the two stood there 
speechless and almost motionless; only once again Amice 
passed her hand over her brow, and her large blue eyes 
looked bewildered. 

It was Hoel who first broke the silence; but his voice 
seemed changed. Could it be the same man who had 
laughed so happily, and talked so amusingly, only a few 
weeks ago? 

“Miss Kestell, I have frightened you/' he said. 
“ Don't look so startled. I was a little surprised at see- 
ing you here, just because 1 was thinking of you — wanting 
you." 

“ Me!" said Amice, leaning against a fir-trunk in order 
to recover herself, and find strength to be quite natural. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


281 


44 Yes, you; I wished for you intensely, and you came. 
We sometimes are frightened when our wishes are realized 
in this way. ” 

44 You want to see Elva,” said Amice, taking no notice 
of his words. 44 1 am sorry she is in London for two days. 
She is with the Fitzgeralds, our cousins. She will be so 
disappointed to know you came when she was away. She 
fancied you were busy with your uncle’s affairs.” 

44 1 am glad she is away,” said Hoel, still in an altered 
voice. 44 Do not tell her 1 have been here; do not mention 
our meeting. It was you I wanted to see — you alone. It is 
getting chilly; will you walk toward the farm, or where 
can we go?” 

Amice looked slowly up into Hoel’s face with the 
thought that he must have gone mad; and a cold feeling 
came at her heart as she said to herself: 44 Is Elva to suffer, 
too? Will it reach her, my own noble-hearted sister, who 
has never had my feelings? No, not her, let me suffer 
doubly for her . 99 

44 1 do not understand you, Mr. Fenner,” she said, 
aloud, and with as much dignity as she could muster. 
44 Why do you talk so strangely? What have we got to do 
with each other? Let me go by. 1 prefer walking home 
alone. I should not have disturbed you just now, but I 
fancied you were some one else.” 

44 Some one else! Who, then?” 

Amice did not answer. What made Mr. Fenner so 
strange in his manner? 

44 1 beg your pardon,” continued Hoel. 44 .I hardly 
know what I am saying. Forgive me, 1 have. annoyed you; 
think no more about it. Do you remember. Miss Amice, 
that you once asked me a question? Before my uncle 
died, I asked him who was — ” 

Amice suddenly seemed to wake up, the frigid expression 
she had put on gave place to a look of intense horror, her 
face became deathly pale, so that even Hoel, who was more 
anxious about his own thoughts than hers, noticed it. 

She put her hand on his arm as a suppliant might do, 
and her tone was intensely humble. 

44 Yes, yes, I know. I asked you who was— John Pel- 
lew. Tell me, quickly, and then please leave me. I want 
to go on to the farm.” 

44 Tell me first why you want to know.” 


282 KESTELL OF GBEYSTONti. 

“ No, no, 1 can not.” 

“Has he anything to do with you; with your family? 
Tell me. It is very important to me.” 

“ To you? Then you know?” 

Amice’s hands sunk listlessly by her side, and then she 
clasped them in order to get some support. 

“ Know what?” said Hoel, fiercely. 

“You know. Yes, I can see it in your face. You 
know about the curse. Oh, Elva, Elva!” 

“ What do you mean?” said Hoel, in low, indignant, 
almost passionate tones. “ Can you speak plainly, openly, 
and not with this mystery? I know. Yes, yes, I know; 
or, I will know. Speak plainly. I insist upon it.” 

Amice was again frightened. What had she said? Did 
he, or did he not know that strange mystery that haunted 
her life? If he did not know, what had she said? 

She shook her head. 

“ Tell me what your uncle said.” 

“John Pellew was a distant cousin of mine. He was 
not thought very highly of, and he died young in India.” 

Hoel said this in a studied, cold manner, and waited, 
looking intensely at Amice as he did so. On her side, she 
seemed to take in the simple words with difficulty. 

“ Is that all?” she said, at last. 

“ What more will you have?” 

“ 1 don’t know. He died young in India?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Did he — did your uncle know if he was poor?” 

“ The youngest of three is not likely to have been rich; 
but I will find out the rest.” 

“No,” said Amice, quickly. “No, please, Mr. Fen- 
ner, don’t find out any more. Leave it alone; leave it to 
me, for Elva’s sake, if you love her.” 

“ Hush; don’t mention her, please. You asked me to 
leave you. Good-bye; I am going. I shall find out the 
rest; before long I shall know.” 

He unfolded his arms and joicked up his stick, which 
had fallen on the needle-covered earth. 

Amice never uttered another word. She watched Hoel 
striding away up the path, and, in a terror of uncertainty, 
she followed slowly behind. 

“ What does it all mean, and what has papa to do with 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOK E. 


283 


John Pellew? He died poor; then, surely — but he will 
find out. He knows, 1 feel sure; he knows something.” 

Hoel Fenner walked on as if the Furies were behind him. 
He had many miles to get over before lie could reach 
Greystone, and his shortest way would have been by the 
Pools; but taking that path he would have to pass Rush- 
brook, and this he would not do, so, leaving the wood, he 
struck across country till he reached the high-road leading 
to the town. 

He was late for his dinner, but scarcely minded that, 
and was not overpleased when the landlord insisted on 
talking to him. 

“ 1 think, sir, since I’ve seen your name on your lug- 
gage, you must be the gentleman who was in our railway 
accident? 1 hope, sir, you've recovered?” 

“ Yes, quite.” 

“ There's only one poor man that's never got away from 
here, and they do say his days are numbered. He's at the 
little public close by. Mr. Kestell of Greystone, sir, has 
been kindness itself to the man.” 

“ Yes, I remember — Button. I should like to see him. 
1 — ” Hosi paused. “ 1 will go and see him after dinner, 
and I shall be returning to town to-morrow morning.” 

Hoel eat his dinner mechanically, he did not even know 
what he was eating; he never gave a thought to his weari- 
ness; there was time enough for that by and by. 

When he entered the small room where Button lay in 
bed, he was struck by the look of death on the man's face. 
Drink had hastened on the end. Had he not been able to 
get the curse of his life, Joe Button might have pulled 
through. Strong and hale, he had not resisted his craving; 
and in his weakness, and with the ample means provided 
by Mr. Kestell, how was he to deny himself? 

At first Button took Hoel for Mr. Kestell, then shaking 
off his lethargy, he roused himself. 

“ Ah, sir, so we were in the same accident. It’s done 
for me. And yet 1 might have been in a better position. 
If I do get over this cursed illness, I'll go and claim my 
papers. Mr. Kestell has got them. They're no good to 
me; but yet I like to show people 1 might have been as 
rich as Kestell of Greystone. It's the rich that get all the 
good things. Yes, sir, we owned Westacre Lands — the 


284 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


place where the mines were found — the mines that have 
made Mr. Kestell so rich. We ought to have held on 
longer.” 

“ You sold them to him,” said Hoel, indifferently. 

“■No, sir, not to him, but to another — a young gentle- 
man; it's in the deeds — Mr. John Pellew.” 

“ John Pellew!” gasped Hoel. 6 What became of him? 
Speak out, man. ” 

Button looked surprised. 

“ Did you happen to know him, sir? They say he died, 
and sold his right to Mr. Kestell. If he had lived he 
would have took on as much as Fve done, I dare say; but 
there, he died, and it was Mr. Kestell who had it all. 
Money goes to money.” 

“ Who said he sold his land to Mr. Kestell?” said Hoel, 
stooping down toward Button, who was getting thick in 
his speech. 

“ Who said it? Who said it? Why — he did, he did — 
Mr. Kestell. I don’t blame him more than others, sir. 
Mr. Kestell’s been liberal, he let me work on there some 
time; but it was — ” 

“ I remember; the drink, man. You ruined yourself.” 

“ If you don’t mind, sir, just giving me a trifle — lending 
me, 1 mean— when Mr. Kestell comes again I’ll return it. 
I haven’t a sixpence to bless myself with. It’s hard on a 
man who might have been rich.” 

“ Pshaw, man! A trifle! God forbid I should give you 
even sixpence. Look here, I am going to Westacre Lands 
to-morrow, and I shall inquire into your story. Take my 
advice, give up the drink, and even now you may pull 
through. Good-night. ” 


CHAPTER XY. 

MISTAKEN SILENCE. 

Jesse Vicary had managed to find a stock of patience 
— if patience was the word to apply to his state of mind. 
In a week he would know Mr. Fenner’s version of the 
story; and then, forming his own conclusions, he would act 
for himself. Jesse was, during this time, in a curious 
mental condition; a hard crust seemed to be forming over 
his natural goodness. He walked more firmly, and felt an 
unusual antagonism to his kind. He could have expressed 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


285 


his state of mind in the words, that his hand was against 
every man, and every man’s hand against him. Pride 
seems but a poor comfort to an aching heart; the salve it 
gives is like veneer to rotten wood — it can not make whole, 
it can only deceive casual glances. 

His poor neighbors saw but little of him at this time. 
He could not feel any pity for them; their lot, miserable 
as it was, appeared less false than his. They were, most 
of them, either contented with their surroundings, or else 
debasing themselves with their eyes open. Why should 
either of these two classes deserve pity when he who had 
striven so hard to rise all his life was to be crushed by a 
man who should at best offer him protection? 

Jesse turned from human beings and opened his books. 
The dead offered more consolation than the living. Their 
truth, their falsehood, could be proved; or, if not proved 
—well, then doubted without stint. So Jesse spent all his 
spare hours, and some which had better have been spent in 
sleep, in poring over old musty volumes. Some of his favor- 
ite Latin authors were brought out again; but with them 
came the remembrance of his old master, so he preferred 
his mathematics. They took all his brains and left him 
no more room for thought. 

So the week dragged wearily along, and every now and 
then Jesse tried, very ineffectively, to make out his plan 
of revenge. Some say revenge is sweet; but the planning 
is surely harassing work. Will it fail or will it succeed? 
A plan of revenge that may fail is by no means sweet; and 
much was against Jesse’s grand idea of succeeding. 

The world might call him mad, and demand proofs, or 
even might refuse to believe the proofs he meant to bring. 
The world is usually inclined to side with the rich and 
powerful, for it is altogether easier and safer in the long 
run; and Jesse recognized this, and it made him still more 
bitter. 

It was at this time that he mentally asked the great 
question, “ Why?” and would not let the answer reach his 
heart. It is by no means all questioners who wish to re- 
ceive answers; they prefer knocking to listening for the 
permission to enter. The knocking provides the excuse 
for impatience and the self-pity. 

Any other trial might not have found Jesse wanting. 
He could have mastered poverty, neglect, ill success; but 


286 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


shame — no, this seemed to raise all his bad feelings, though 
the change was not visible to the outer world. 

Till a man has been tried in his weakest point, let him 
not cast a stone at one who has reached the decisive turn 
in his life’s journey. As to visions of beauty and goodness, 
they had faded entirely from Jesse’s vision. He worked, 
read, slept, eat, came in and went out with clock-like regu- 
larity; but otherwise he was not himself, and, worst of all 
punishments, he knew it. Revenge — it was coming slow- 
ly, but surely; and it was this giant image he watched so 
keenly. He liked to see it become more shapely, more de- 
fined; he liked to see it advance one step daily nearer to 
him. It was his Juggernaut, and he was but waiting to 
throw himself before it in adoration. 

But all this time not a word had he heard from Mr. 
Fenner. Still he trusted him. Belief in his friends died 
hard with Jesse; he judged others by himself. So intense 
were his affections that he could make grand allowances 
till his faith was shattered; then Jesse was apt to exagger- 
ate the fault. 

At last the day dawned. It was Saturday, and he 
should be home early from work. It was a bright, sunny 
day, even in London, after the mist and fog had cleared 
off. Even Golden Sparrow Street could not shut out the 
sky; indeed, the houses, being low and mean, allowed a 
greater expanse to be seen. On any other day Jesse might 
have taken a long trudge, but to-day he dared not go far. 
What time would Mr. Fenner come? Not before the even- 
ing; or, yes, knowing Jesse would be at home, he might 
look in earlier. 

’Liza, when she triumphantly brought up the tea things, 
found Mr. Vicary walking up and down like a caged ani- 
mal, and for once in her life she dared not address him a 
word. 

“ ’Liza,” said Jesse, suddenly, “if Mr. Fenner calls, 
show him upstairs at once. Don’t imagine I am out, be- 
cause I shall stay in till he comes.” 

And then he sat down to his solitary meal, while to 
aggravate his feelings still more, thoughts of Symee filled 
his mind, and would not be driven out. 

Symee preferred comfort and plenty with servitude to 
liberty and a crust. Symee deserved her fate. She was a 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


287 


woman, weak, easily led, afraid to do right or wrong. 
Well, she had chosen, it was not he, Jesse, who should 
now expatriate* himself in order to have to bear with a weak 
girFs reproaches. She had had her choice, let her abide 
by it. 

Six o'clock, seven o'clock, and no Hoel Fenner. He 
would not come now till late. The dinner-hour of the rich 
was a feast which could not be moved. What if he, too, 
were going to fail him, and he would not appear at all? 
AVhat — Jesse was beginning to lose faith even in Hoel Fen- 
ner, when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Was knowl- 
edge near at hand? was revenge coming? was Mr. Fenner 
going to treat the matter lightly again? 

The door opened, and Hoel Fenner entered. 

The lamp shed its light only on a part of the room. It 
did not at once disclose Hoel's face plainly; unlike his 
usual habit, it was Jesse who spoke first, and as he held 
out his hand, all his natural diffidence seemed to have for- 
saken him. 

“ You are come, Mr. Fenner. I was beginning to 
think you had forgotten me and my very unimportant 
affairs; besides, this must be about your dinner-hour. 
Shut the door, 'Liza, and let no one else come up. Will 
you sit by the fire? It is chilly now in the evening." 

66 Thank you," said Hoel, 44 it does not matter where." 
The altered tone, the utter change of manner, was so strik- 
ing that Jesse stopped short and began to wonder what had 
happened. He did not imagine it had anything to do with 
him or his business; but, all the same, it was too marked 
to be overlooked. Jesse's unnatural eloquence received a 
check. He even wondered if it had displeased Hoel, who, 
of course, was accustomed to a certain veiled respect, 
which, before now, Jesse had willingly accorded him. 
Jesse, even now, could not see Hoel's face clearly. He 
had seated himself where the shadow fell. 

“ You have thought me a little exacting," said Jesse. 

44 1 knew you must be expecting me; but 1 own I put off 
coming as long as possible; besides, I have been three 
times out of town, and perhaps you are not aware that my 
uncle — the one I have mentioned as having brought me up 
— died suddenly. He was buried yesterday." 

44 Death seems nothing very terrible to a solitary man 


288 


KESTELL OF OREYSTONE. 


like me; but I suppose to the rich there may be many re- 
grets at leaving life.” 

44 We are all alike, I suppose, in wishing to live as long 
as possible,” said Hoel, and, strange as it seemed, it was 
as if the two men had now changed places — now it was 
Hoel who was blunt and straightforward, and Jesse in- 
clined to show off a cynicism that fitted him but badly. 

There was a pause — a pause which tried Jesse intensely, 
as he- was thinking most about himself. Again it was he 
who broke the silence. 

“Iam afraid my business must have been an extra worry 
— a nuisance, in fact; but you know I was willing to go my 
own way. I did not wish to force my affairs upon the 
shoulders of any one. ” 

44 1 have had very little to do with my uncle’s affairs,” 
said Hoel, in the same strange, unnatural voice, as if he 
had not heard Jesse’s remark. 44 The family lawyer is a 
very useful man on these occasions, and is willing to under- 
take all the fuss that takes place when a man dies sudden- 
ly. Besides, my uncle did not sign his last will, and I 
count for nothing in one that stands.” 

Jesse, thus forced to leave his own thoughts, was ready 
to give sympathy. 

4 4 That seems hard, or would seem so to some men, but 
I do not think it will influence you much, Mr. Fenner. 
To me, you know, money means very little. A room to 
sleep in and a crust of bread are all that is necessary to 
man, and even if one’s arms can not provide these, there 
is the work-house, though I own to a slight dislike of that 
idea.” Jesse laughed. 44 Still, I can not altogether say 
I would prefer to starve than to enter the House, as the 
poor do. On the whole, it is less selfish to save your fellow- 
creatures the pain of finding you dead on a doorstep, or 
other such hospitable refuge.” 

44 You are very happy, Vicary, you have only yourself 
to think of. ” 

44 Happy!” 

This time the laugh was truly cynical. 

44 Yes, happy. You can fall back on past experience. 
You can have nothing to reproach yourself with; but you 
can not be stranded suddenly. You can not find yourself 
in a relentless storm, where nothing seems able to shelter 
you, and where there’s not even a plank one can grasp. 1 


KESTELL OE C4 RE Y STOKE. 


289 


don’t know why I’ve come here to-night. Well, yes, I 
was afraid you would think less of me; and I can’t afford 
to lose any one’s good opinion just now. I promised I 
would come. But look here, Vicary, it’s no use beating 
about the bush in this insane manner, let me tell you at 
once, though I’ve come, 1 can do you no earthly good.” 

Hoel rested his elbow on the table, and with his well- 
shaped hand he shaded his face. 

Still Jesse was entirely in the dark. 

44 Pray, don’t let that distress you, Mr. Fenner. I never 
expected much result, as you know, least of all did I wish 
to have bothered you with my affairs just at a time when 
you were having troubles of your own. I have no rela- 
tions except Symee; but 1 can understand that losing even 
one who did not much interest me would touch me in spite 
of myself. As for my own plans, I am prepared to fight 
on alone. You might have cleared the way; but what 
more could you have done? In your position, too, it was 
most generous, most kind of you to undertake to give me 
help, and please do not think 1 am ungrateful; it would 
really pain me to believe you thought so.” 

44 You can not understand my motives, Vicary; but, at 
least, my inability to help you was not caused by inaction.” 

Jesse felt the blood mount to his face. 

44 Then you tried, and failed to discover anything?” 

44 I tried.” 

44 And failed?” 

Hoel did not remove his hand, so that Jesse could still 
see nothing of the expression. The situation was becom- 
ing exasperating. 

44 No. ” 

Another pause, more awful than the others. 

44 Then, for Heaven’s sake,” said Jesse, starting up, and 
forgetting everything about relative positions, everything 
but the knowledge that the man before him had succeeded 
in finding out what he wanted to know, and yet that he 
would not tell him. 44 Then, for Heaven’s sake, why do 
you not tell me? Is it worse than I told you? How can 
it be? Will my vengeance be greater because I am sure? 
Ho you think that ignorance will lessen my bitter feelings? 
Mr. Fenner, you have been a kind friend to me, till now. 
1 do not forget it, I am not ungrateful; but if you can not 
understand it, at least believe me when I tell you that this 


§90 


KESTELL OE GREYSTOKE. 


is no laughing matter to me, that whatever you, or what 
some people call the world, think, to me it is of the utmost 
importance; believe, too, that 1 have been living an insup- 
portable life since I saw you, that you can not, through 
any false notions of sparing me, wish to withhold the truth 
from me, however bad it is.” 

These words had rushed out like a pent-up torrent. 
Jesse Vicary never paused to think of anything or any one, 
his one effort was to prevent himself from shaking the 
truth out of the man before him. Something in the in- 
tense sadness of that immovable figure prevented him. 

“Vicary, stop, for pity’s sake. Remember that there 
are more persons than one to be considered in this ques- 
tion. But how can you consider? You have not the 
power. You can not know my feelings, my reasonings; 
but, look here, you say that I have been a friend to you. 
I don’t altogether accept the term; but let that pass. If 
you consider me a friend, do something for me. If I 
j3romised to bring you back an answer, let me off my 
promise, because — because — unless you hold me to it, 
Vicary, 1 can not tell you.” 

Jesse sunk down on his chair again, and in a kind of 
amazed stupor he repeated: 

“ You can not tell me?” 

“No.” 

“But you can not prevent my finding out in my own 
way. You hardly understand my motives, or what 1 con- 
jecture to be the truth.” 

“ No, I can not.” 

“ Then, by Heaven, I will find out everything, and with- 
out any one’s help.” 

“ 1 feared so; but forgive me, Vicary, if you only knew, 
if — no, I can not offer advice; but can I say anything to 
make you desist? Look here, will you believe me when I 
tell you that, though 1 am tongue-tied, this I am sure of, 
working alone, you will go on the wrong track. Be gener- 
ous. Leave it alone, Vicary. I am beginning to think 
that an overruling Providence is not a myth. Wait a few 
years — be patient.” 

“ So that others may enjoy the fruit of my sufferings? 
No, 1 will not; if God is just, then He can not mind man 
seeking for that justice. Be it long or short, I will seek 
for it.” 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


291 


Iloel got up, Jesse^s words had stung him like hail. 
“Don’t judge harshly, Vicary. You have let me off 
my promise. Thank you. Will you take my hand and 
forgive me?” 

Yicary gave his hand, but there was nothing of the old 


in it. 



“ Yes, 1 let you off, Mr. Fenner. I can do my work 
alone. I am sorry I ever troubled you with the story. ” 

“Good heavens,” said Iloel, as he walked away, “he 
little guesses the truth, and yet 1 — no, I could not tell 


him.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


HAPPY WAITING 


There was a drizzling rain, which came in slanting- 
gusts along the valley, and made all the forest country look 
blurred and mysterious in the failing light. The loneliness 
seemed complete, for, except where the cottage lights shone 
like pale ghosts of themselves to those not far off, all hu- 
man beings that were able to do so had retired in-doors. 
Over the Pools, which looked so desolate and so mournful, 
the mist settled in a thicker layer than usual, while the 
eddies made by the ruffled surface of the water as the slight 
wind passed slowly across it, added the last touch of sad- 
ness which the picture required. 

But in the rich dwelling of Mr. Kestell all this cheerless 
damp and sadness were at this time invisible, for it was 
nearly dinner-time and every room was closely curtained, 
and the windows were barred. 

Outside the pitter-patter of the misty rain was so soft 
that only occasionally could it be faintly heard, and the 
silence was broken now and then by the long howl of 
Neptune, the stable-dog, who was too ugly and old to have 
any fellowship with the pampered King Charles which Mrs. 
Kestell favored. 

It was that happy, lazy time in an English household, 
when the ladies feel quite absolved from being bus} r . In 
half an hour there would be heard the dressing-hall, and it 
was not worth while to be too industrious. Besides, a lit- 
tle gossip makes the evening time less dull when all the 
day has been cheerless. 


KESTELL OF GKEY STONE. 


2\)2 


Mrs. Kestell was wonderfully cheerful, and Elva was all 
radiant happiness. 

“ And so the Fitzgeralds asked a great many questions, 
dear? I am sure they were jealous, they always are, those 
girls. " 

“ They would be more jealous if they had seen Hoel," 
laughed Elva. “ But, really, 1 never gave a thought to 
their opinion; 1 had no time. I managed to choose most 
of the important things; they will come down in a day or 
two, and 1 know you and Symee will find fault. " 

66 No; you usually have very good taste, dear. I wish 
Amice had been with you, however, though of course she 
never does know what is fashion able/ 5 . 

“ That does not matter at all, so that Hoel is pleased. 
He has such a keen eye for a woman's dress; I never met 
any man with such exquisite taste." 

66 And about his house. How will he furnish it?" 

“ 1 don't suppose he has begun to think of that. You 
see, his uncle's death put out all his calculations. He has 
had no time to write, even; I thought I should have had a 
letter by second post, but I have not. Amice dear, you 
are putting out your eyes working in that dark corner. 
Come here, on the hearth-rug. " 

“ No, thank you; 1 am not working much," said Amice, 
dreamily; and something in the tone of her voice made 
Elva look anxiously at her sister. The look was coming 
into her eyes which Elva dreaded so much. 

For two days Amice had been very strange and absent. 
What did it mean? 

Elva got up from her chair, and stood on the hearth-rug, 
her beautiful figure and her bright, happy face were seen 
with a background of glowing light from the cheerful 
flames. Without knowing why, she felt uneasy and sad. 
Perhaps it was the slight pitter-patter, which became audi- 
ble as she listened. 

“ Papa generally looks in. Has any one seen him since 
he came back from Greystone?" said Elva, to break the 
silence. She was twisting her engagement-ring round her 
finger, and suddenly it fell off and was hidden in the fur 
rug. 

“ Oh, dear, where is my ring? Amice, your eyes are 
good, come and help me to find it. " 

Amice at once came forward and stooped down. 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


293 


44 That comes of fidgeting, Elva," said her mother. 
44 No, your father never came in to see me. 1 can not 
think why. He must have had some business to finish up 
for post time. It is a great pity he does not give up going 
to Greystone altogether. Amice dear, go and knock at 
the study door, and tell your father that it's time he left 
off writing." 

Amice at this moment found the ring, and went slowly 
toward the door, as if very reluctant to obey her mother's 
command. The dressing-bell rang, and Elva, taking her 
sister's arm, went out with her. 

44 Amice darling, you have been indulging too much in 
fancies. Won't you let all strange ideas rest a little till 
after my wedding? When I am living in London you wiU 
have to come there very often. 1 believe Kushbrook is too 
lonely a place for you." 

64 No," she said, as her blue eyes looked sadly at Elva; 
44 no, I love the loneliness; but oh, Elva, how can I — " 

She broke off, because at this moment the study door 
opened, and Mr. Kestell came out of it and walked slowly 
upstairs without noticing his daughters. 

44 1 feel sure papa had another bad night, and how ter- 
rible this sleeplessness is," said Elva, when her father's 
footsteps had died away. 42 I believe he is suffering; but 
he is so good and patient that he will not let. us see it. He 
is afraid of making mother worry. Do you know. Amice, 
that when 1 think of papa, I pray that Hoel may be as 
loving and tender to me, when 1 am old and gray, as he is 
to mamma. Such love seems to make one realize what 
faithfulness means; because, from her long illness, it can 
not be said that mamma has been a real companion. I 
hope 1 shall never be an invalid. It is a great trial to a 
man. I see things so differently now. I want Hoel to 
find in me a real help, Amice. There is nothing like this 
love; and. I do hope and pray that some day you may have 
it too. Only, 1 don't know if there is a man on earth 
worthy of you." 

44 There is a higher love," said Amice, softly. 

44 Yes, I know, theoretically; and in a way one believes 
it. Thomas a Kempis would have one only believe in a 
spiritual union of the human with the divine; but Thomas 
a Kempis never was engaged to be married." 


294 


KESTELE OF GREY STOKE. 


Such a bright smile illuminated Elva’s face that it was 
reflected on that of her sister. 

“ I want you to be happy in your own way, dear Elva,” 
said Amice, as they paused on the landing just in front of 
the old clock whose pictorial representation of the moon’s 
face so much annoyed the master of Kushbrook. “ If you 
are happy, everything else will be easy to bear; but I am 
very anxious — ” 

“ What about? Really, Amice, you are getting mor- 
bid.” 

“You have not heard from Mr. Fenner to-day?” 

“ No; but you know we agreed not to be plunged into 
despair if something hindered our letters. Hoel is so sen- 
sible. I should hate an exacting man. ” 

“ Mr. Fenner would not be generous. He does not 
really understand you, Elva.” 

Elva was not going to quarrel with her sister; so she 
only laughed as she entered her room and rang for Symee. 

Symee had become very sad-looking since Jesse’s depart- 
ure. The rift between them seemed so terrible now that 
he was gone, and she worried herself by thinking it was 
her fault, and then braced herself up again by deciding 
that she had followed Mr. Kestell’s advice, and had done 
the best she could for her brother at the expense of her 
own pleasure. If he misunderstood her, she could not 
help it. 

Elva had been too much engaged with her own affairs 
to give much thought to Symee; but not so with Amice. 
And this evening, as she was dressing the youngest Miss 
Kestell, Symee was once more disturbed by her remarks. 

“ Have you heard from your brother lately, Symee?” 

“ Not very lately. Miss Amice; and when he writes now 
he is so altered. He will not forgive me, and yet 1 did it 
for his good.” 

“We can not always choose what is for the good of our 
friends,” said Amice, sadly. “ Will you mind my saying 
something, Symee, that has been a long time on my 
mind?” 

“ You always are so good to me. Miss Amice. Of 
course, you may say anything.” 

“ I would not without your leave. I mean that I think 
you were quite wrong to forsake your brother. Oh, 
Symee, you can not know how much he may be wanting 


KESTELL OE GftEYSTONE. 295 

you. You may be leaving him when he wants help. I 
don't know why, but I feel sure this is the case. - ” 

44 But I should be ungrateful to Mr. KesteJl and to you 
all. That is my first duty. " 

44 No, 1 don't think so. We are rich, and money can 
procure anything almost; but your brother is poor, and he 
has only you. Oh, Symee, suppose it were my sister who. 
wanted me, nothing would prevent me from going. If 
you are afraid of papa, I will take all the blame, Symee. " 

Symee burst into tears. 

4 4 Miss Amice, it is cruel of you to make me think it all 
over again and unsettle me. Besides, Jesse seems so 
strange now that very likely he would not have me." 

44 Then you are not afraid of being poor?" 

Amice had touched a sore point. 

44 1 should prefer waiting till Jesse was better off, of 
course; t^ut — " 

Amice sighed. 

44 It is the gold again," she said, under her breath. 44 It 
is beginning to be the ruin of other people." 

At that moment Mrs. Kestell's bell rang, and Symee had 
to run off. 

Several strange things happened this evening. 

Mr. Kestell appeared to forget his usual habit of coming 
to the drawing-room before dinner; and it was Amice on 
whose arm Mrs. Kestell leaned. 

He even kept the ladies waiting a minute before he 
joined them. Then he seemed brighter and more talka- 
tive than he had done for some weeks. There was quite a 
flow of conversation. He apologized for his unpunctuality 
by saying he had some letters to finish for the late post; 
and he even addressed some kind inquiries to Amice about 
her poor people. 

44 Didn't I hear you say, my dear, that some of the 
Moors were going to emigrate?" 

44 Yes, papa." 

“Well, they will want to be rigged out, I suppose. 
Where are they going?" 

44 To Queensland." 

44 And imagine, papa," put in Elva, with the bright, 
sympathetic smile that was usually the herald of her speech 
when she addressed her father, 44 Mrs. Eagle Bennison has 
been to them, as the secretary of the T. A. P. S. , to see if 


296 


KESTELL OF OTIEYSTONE. 


they will begin at once to receive instruction. Mrs. Moor 
declined, saying she was too busy to be bothered with 
ladies* new-fangled ideas.** 

' 44 I do think, Josiah, that you ought to speak to Mrs. 
Eagle Bennison about these odd societies. Mr. Heaton is 
so good-natured, he allows people to go their own way.** 

. 46 Anyhow the Moors want some substantial help, so, 

Amice, spend up to twenty pounds for them. Every family 
that goes out of England is so much gain to the country, 
as each colonist is worth five to eight pounds to the mother 
country in exports. We ought to have state-aided coloniza- 
tion; but the government prefer wasting the public money 
over work-house tramps, to giving this same money for 
lasting benefit.** 

Amice did not assent, or even say thank you; and Elva 
could not help being sorry that her sister responded so lit- 
tle to her father*s kind thoughtfulness. Perhaps when 
she, Elva, was married these two so dear to fier would 
learn to understand each other better. 

At this moment Jones re-entered the room. 

44 If you please, sir, there*s a man come from Greystone, 
from the landlord of the Three Feathers, to say the man 
Button died to-day at five o’clock.** 

44 Poor man!** exclaimed Elva. 44 Why, papa, in spite 
of all you have done for him, he has not pulled through.** 

Mr. Kestell sighed gently. Was it from sympathy or 
relief? No one there asked this question. 

“Poor fellow! Well, he certainly received serious in- 
ternal injury in that railway accident. Tell the messenger 
that I will pay his funeral expenses. I expect that is the 
meaning of the announcement. ** 

Elva was silent for a little time. The thought of that 
railway accident brought back her anxiety and her great 
joy, also the remembrance of Walter Akister, which was 
not pleasant. He was away now, and she seemed more 
able to breathe freely when she walked put. 

“ Has he any relations?** she asked. 

44 Oh, I suppose at Westacre Lands he may have cous- 
ins. ** 

Amice looked up, and gazed at her father. At this mo- 
ment she knew the sigh she had heard was one of relief, 
and then she hated herself for the thought. 

44 Now, darling, you are going to bed,** said Miv Kestell 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 297 

to his wife after dinner. “ You look tired, and Doctor 
Pink said you must be careful.” 

There was the usual attendance on his wife, the same 
loving thought for her, which sent a new thrill of happi- 
ness into Elva’s heart. She thought: 

“ Hoel will be like that, I hope; there is something so 
infinitely tender in such love.” 

And, thus thinking, she sat down to write to her lover, 
while Amice took out some work for the Moors’ equip- 
ment. 

“ You might have thanked papa,” said Elva, presently, 
looking away from her writing. 

“ I did not mean to use the money, so I thought it bet- 
ter to say nothing.” 

“ Not accept twenty pounds. Amice!” 

“ No. Please, Elva, believe me that the money would 
do them more harm than good.” 

Elva laughed. 

4 6 Dreadfully a la Thomas a Kempis. Anyhow, keep 
the offer a secret, or the Moors will not indorse your de- 
cision.” 

Then the two relapsed into the silence of perfect sym- 
pathy, such a silence as few can give us except those who 
love us perfectly. 

How long after this was it that Mr. Kestell’s steps were 
heard, Elva could not remember afterward; but she was 
just writing, “Your own loving Elva,” when her father 
said: 

“ Elva, dearest, come into the study. I want you.” 

And she rose at once, and walked quickly across the 

hall. 


CHAPTER XV1L 

AT AN END. 

Mr. Kestell was not seated by the fire or at his table 
when Elva entered. Everything in the room was as usual; 
the shaded lamp on the table, the iron-work candelabras 
near the chimney-piece, which had been brought by a 
grateful client from Venice, held lighted candles, the fire 
burned brightly, and the hearth was shining and newly 
swept. The old bureau in the corner stood firm and solid 
in its place, like a trusted friend, the book-cases were also 


298 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


like familiar surroundings, valued without being thought 
of separately. 

Elva, as she entered, seemed to embellish it all, just as 
a master-touch in a dull picture will make the whole beau- 
tiful. Since her engagement much of her impetuosity had 
disappeared, or rather this sign of unsatisfied longing had 
been merged into thorough expectant happiness. She was 
rather molding herself too much on Hoel. Some of the 
old Elva had. gone out of the picture, but it was there, 
ready to reassert itself; for character is almost like matter, 
indestructible; it has more than seven lives, and dies hard, 
if indeed it can be killed. 

<4 Iiere I am, papa. Have I come to prescribe! You 
know I am a much better doctor for you than the ancient 
Pink.” 

She shut the door, and came toward her father who re- 
mained there so motionless. Suddenly Elva looked up and 
saw that something was the matter. All the gayety ex- 
hibited at dinner was gone. The gray, ashy look on the 
face, and the dull luster in her father’s eyes were very 
visible. 

“ Papa, papa,” she cried, and took both his hands in hers, 
and drew him toward the fire. “ Sit down, darling; sit 
down. What is the matter?” 

He obeyed her, and there came to her mind a former 
scene when she had told him that she would rather be the 
daughter of Kestell of Greystone than any lady of title. 

Mr. Kestell made an effort to speak. He had not meant 
to give way. On the contrary, for several hours he had 
been bracing himself to be very strong. 

“ Hush, dear; it is nothing. One of my little sudden 
attacks. Lock the door, Elva, and let no one interrupt 
us.” 

Elva rose from her knees, and with a trembling hand 
obeyed. For the first time, something of the strange mys- 
tery came over her without her being aware of it in so 
many words. W r hen she came back to her father’s side 
she was deathly pale. 

Sit down, dear; there, close to me; but just give me a 
few drops out of that bottle. Thank you. Your mother 
is upstairs; she will know nothing of this.” 

“ Of course not, papa; but what is it? Please tell me 
quickly. 1 never was very patient. I am not like Amice,” 


KESTELt OE GREY STONE. 299 

Mr. Kestell looked for one moment into his child’s face, 
and the expression of his eyes was like that of some dumb 
animal who begs for forgiveness. 

44 Elva, my dearest child, you have never given me a 
moment’s anxiety, and you can never know what I would 
give at this moment to spare you pain; but — but I can not. 
Good heavens! that just when we were happy, when things 
might have gone on to the end, this should happen. 
Child! how can I spare you the news?” 

46 What news?” 

Elva grasped a thousand possibilities, and tried to choose. 
Had they lost money? Was Rushbrook to be sold? Had 
Jones turned into a thief? or what— what — Never did 
one of these ideas connect itself with Hoel. 

44 1 want you to be brave and to spare your mother. I 
have lived for that all my life. ” 

44 You know I will,” said Elva, impatiently, so great was 
the tension of her nerves. 44 1 always have; for your sake, 
papa, 1 would do it still more. But tell me at once.” 

Mr. Kestell rose again and put a trembling hand on his 
daughter’s shoulder. 

44 1 will. But think a little of your father, child. Your 
pain is doubled in him.” 

44 My pain? What do you mean, papa? Our pain — 
what touches you touches us all — all except mamma; and 
1 know she must be spared.” 

44 No, Elva, this is yours, child. Will a double portion 
of my love make up for it? I could do everything but 
sacrifice your mother. You were so happy, you could not 
know that Mr. Fenner — ” 

44 Mr. Fenner— Hoel?” Elva sprung up with fierce 
energy. 44 Papa, you do not know what you are saying. 
If it’s about Hoel, tell me at once. Is he ill, or— or — ” 

She could not say dead; a cold shudder stopped the 
words on her lips. 

44 No, no, not ill, not dead. That would be better. 
But — he refuses to — to — ” The words came thick and 
slow. 44 He wishes to break off your engagement.” 

Elva drew back two paces, as if her father’s words were 
an insult to her and her lover. She even laughed, so ab- 
surd did the idea appear, and the laugh hurt Mr. Kestell 
more than tears w r ould have done. Elva would not be- 
lieve him. 


300 


KESTELL OE GREYSTONE. 

“ Papa, please don’t say anything so foolish. Hoel and 
1 have had no quarrel, we are perfectly at one in every- 
thing. Either yon have quite, quite misunderstood some 
hasty words of his, or else you are dreaming or ill. Not 
for a moment do I believe you, and you must be witness 
that I say so. I will not do Hoel such a wrong — no, not 
for an instant. 99 

She was the old Elva now-— tall, and straight, and defi- 
ant; her cheeks, so pale a moment before, glowed with 
righteous indignation; she was standing up for Hoel’s 
honor as well as her own. 

“No, dear; I am not mistaken. I — I wish 1 were. 
His letter is quite plain, quite decisive. I want you to try 
and hide this from your mother, Elva; we must think of 
her. ” 

Mr. Kestell repeated the words, as if this idea were the 
only thing he could feel certain about — to save his wife 
from all sorrow. 

Elva became really impatient. 

“ Papa, it is cruel of you to try me like this. You know, 
as well as I do, that the thing is impossible; that Hoel and 
I have never had a word of difference.” She paused, for 
she remembered those few words about Walter Akister, 
but that was so silly, that she would not retract. “ Why 
should he suddenly write to you and break off our engage- 
ment? I repeat it — I do not believe a word of it. Let me 
see his letter. You have given me no reason, and you 
know he must have said something. Where is it?” 

Mr. Kestell made no attempt to give it to her. 

“His uncle died, and did not sign his will. Mr. Fenner 
expected to be his heir . 99 

“Oh, is that all.” Elva drew a deep sigh of relief. 
“ Hoel is rather ridiculous about money. He said he was 
so glad you were only going to give us a little to begin 
with, as it was nice to be alike in everything. I don’t care 
about money, so it made no difference to me. But even if 
his uncle had been so mean, you will not follow his ex- 
ample, papa? You have always said Amice and I should 
share alike; and 1 suppose we are rich? Or is it — yes, it 
must be, papa. You have lost money, and you have told 
Hoel, and he has some ridiculous idea about my not living 
as I have been accustomed to do. He has an honorable 
man’s idea of honor just a little exaggerated. Have we 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 301 

lost money? You know 1 am not afraid of the truth; I 
am not ill, like mamma. ” 

Elva flung out the words defiantly. 

“ No; we have had no losses.” 

64 Then Hoel thinks he has too little money to accept all 
mine? Ridiculous!” 

44 Yes, thaFs it,” said Mr. Kestell, catching at a straw; 
44 he has false ideas of honor.” 

44 But no, he can’t have. We went over all that before, 
and he quite, quite understood my feelings. Papa, doiPt bo 
cruel; show me his letter.” 

44 He inclosed a letter for you, my poor child. Will you 
have it?” 

Mr. Kestell drew an envelope out of his pocket, and 
held it out to Elva. For one moment she hesitated. Was 
this some new trap laid for her? What was happening? 
She could not realize it in the least. She was not Elva; 
she was some one else going through this scene. 

Very, very slowly she held out her hand and took it. 

44 Read it, dear,” said her father, sitting down, and shad- 
ing his face with his hand. 

Elva did not sit down; she even walked away as far as 
possible from her father, and very slowly opened the let- 
ter. Yes, it was sealed with a little signet ring which Hoel 
always wore, engraved with his initials. She took care 
even now not to break the seal. Her eyes became dim, so 
that, for a few seconds, she remained staring at the words 
without taking in the least meaning. At last she read 
these words: 

44 My dear Elya, — For the last time I must write it. 
Your father will tell you what I can not say; but, believe 
me, nothing that has gone before this was false. It was 
true, as you were true. Why were we to love only to end 
like this? and yet I can not fight against Fate. I can not 
think. I can not say more than that it is best for both of 
us. We could not have been happy with the knowledge 
that I was indebted to your father for support. I would 
do much and suffer much; but, not this, I can not see you 
suffer. I shall suffer, but at least I shall not inflict suffer- 
ing on you. Better now, than later, Elva, when we know 
that nothing could undo the past. Yet now, what will 
you think of me? I dare not dwell on that — I dare not. 


302 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


I have begged for a long leave of absence, and no one 
shall know my address. Do not write; I could not bear 
it. Leaving you, 1 leave all that made life beautiful. 
What will you think — what can you think? I can not 
bear to believe you will blame me; and yet you must 
do so. There is no blame attached to you. You are 
innocent of this, entirely; but, Elva, let the world think it 
is your doing, or no— put the blame where you like; at 
least believe, if you can, that by doing this, and by asking 
this, 1 am sparing you greater misery. 

44 Good-bye; I dare not say more; I dare not see you. 
My resolution would break down, and all my life, at least, 
I have believed that my purpose was right. Why was I 
beguiled? Elva, you are good and generous, forgive, and, 
if you can, forget oue who has so unwillingly given you 
and himself this pain. I am distracted. I can hardly be- 
lieve in my own identity. 

64 Hoel Fenner.” 

From behind his shading hand Mr. Kestell had been in- 
tently watching his daughter. 

44 Elva, what does he say?” he asked, trying to steady 
his voice. 

44 Nothing. I don’t know. It is all a mystery. Oh, 
papa, papa, can you* explain it?” And with a gasp, as if 
she were being suddenly suffocated, Elva fell on her knees 
before her father, and laid her head on his knees. 

44 Hush, darling! It is some false idea; but it is irrev- 
ocable. He was utterly unworthy of you — utterly. You 
must forget him.” 

44 Forget him, papa?” 

44 Yes, darling. You see he gives you no explanation, 
does he?” 

44 No. Papa, papa, I do not believe it; it is a dreadful 

{ dot. Who has done this? No, no, it can not be true, 
loel, Hoel! I trusted him entirely! I will write, I must 
write; he will understand that it can hot be a case of 
money between us. I did not love him at first, he taught 
me to love him; and now I can not, can not believe it.” 

Mr. Kestell almost groaned; his child’s words seemed 
more than he could bear, and suddenly Elva remembered 
him. 

She raised her head and took hold of his hand. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


303 


Papa, 1 was forgetting you. You have always been so 
good, so very good to me. 1 could not help saying all this; 
only now even, though, I really don't believe it. It will 
come right, won't it? God won't let me suffer like this. 

It is wicked of me to believe it, even against Hoel. There 
is some explanation I can not understand. If I could go 
to him and just hear him talk, I know he would under- 
stand what my love is. Papa, you know. You have given 
it to mamma all your life. You can understand." 

46 No, no, child. She is my wife. That is very differ- 
ent. You will, in time, forget." 

Elva was angry now. 

44 Forget? If I do, I shall not be different; but please 
don't let us say any more. I will write to Hoel. He can 
not be gone yet. He will come here. Of course he will. 
If I only knew what he means I could tell better what to 
say. It is a bad dream." 

She rose up and walked toward the door. She could not 
sit still. Mr. Kesteli said nothing, and something in his 
silence struck her. 

44 Papa, you are not thinking hard things of Hoel, are 
you? I am sorry I spoke out my thoughts. 1 was taken 
by surprise. He is quite incapable of being dishonorable, 
quite. He fancies his own honor is touched — how, I do 
not know; but 1 feel sure it is that. He will see reason 
when 1 write to him. Poor Hoel! When he comes down, 
you will not be angry with him, will you? Promise me." 

44 Elva, can't you see, a man who writes like that means 
what he says. He will never come. He is utterly un- 
worthy of you. Child, do not make yourself more unhap- 
py by hoping. He is a — a — " 

44 Hush, papa, don't say the word. Hoel could never be 
a scoundrel; I am sure of that, quite sure. You will see 
# that I am right when I get his answer. . Now, I promise 
I will say nothing to mamma; we will keep all this worry , 
from her. Why, of course, true love never runs smooth. 

I should have believed ours had not been true if — " 

44 Elva, don't! Listen. Hoel Fenner’s mind is made 
up. He is leaving England. He has treated you badly; 

1 never wish to see him again. He will never re-enter this 
house. Never!" 

44 But our wedding will be here," said Elva, slowly, as 
if all the past remarks had been forgotten. 


304 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 


44 Good heavens,” said the master of Kushbrook, sink- 
ing down into his chair, 44 if I could have foreseen! Eiva, 
won’t you pity me a little? do you think I would deceive 
you in this? No, child. Mr. Fenner will never return, 
never; it is not your fault, but, indeed, believe me, it is 
best so, he is not a man to forgive. Leave me now; I can 
not bear any more, he is unworthy of you. In his place, 
what should I care?” 

Elva did not understand: these words; but she saw that 
her father looked terribly ill and crushed. Her love for 
him was too great to leave him in this condition. She 
came back and laid her face against his. 

44 Papa, don’t make yourself ill for my sake. Let us 
say no more till Hoel’s answer comes. I will be brave for 
your sake. But, alas! at this moment her love crushed 
him more than her anger. 

44 Thank you, darling,” he said; 44 1 shall get better 
soon; leave me now; I want nothing.” 

When the door had shut, Mr. Kestell rose and jmced his 
room very slowly. The slight exercise did him good — it 
helped him to bear the intense strain which made all his 
perceptions so acute. He took Hoel’s letter from his pocket, 
and once more read these words — words which he could 
not have shown to Elva. 

44 Why I will never touch a penny of your money, you, 
sir, must know; I can not tell your daughter, neither can 
I require you to tell her. I am powerless. 1 can not re- 
deem my word to her, and I will not clear myself at the 
expense of her life-long happiness. I can not hide any- 
thing from my wife. I will not make her hate me by giv- 
ing my true reasons. 

fc4 For the rest, I leave myself in your hands. The in- 
closed note will sound strange to her; but in saving my 
honor and hers I shall appear, what I am not — a traitor to 
myself and others. 1 can but prove the contrary to you 
by my absence and my silence. ” 

44 What does he know?” groaned Mr. Kestell. 44 It 
seemed an impossible chance. Who has put the links to- 
gether? Button is dead, Jesse could not, and Amice — no, 
no, it can not be my own daughter; but, for Elva’s sake, 
1 can still bear it. Others love her, mustdove her better. 
In his place, ah! in his place — ” 


KESTELL OF GKEY STONE. 


3U5 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE LAW OF A MAN*S OWN MIND. 

A week had gone by. A week — what work will it not 
accomplish, this unrelenting, eternity-like time, this ever- 
moving yet changeless time. It works; it is never idle. 
It heals wounds; but also it conceals lasting sores; it brings 
rest and creates restlessness, and calls itself the great healer, 
and yet many say that it destroys as often as it heals. The 
knowledge of time forces us to believe in eternity. 

To Elva Kestell that week was as the foretaste of purga- 
tory. It uprooted every belief she had seemed to possess; 
it made her doubt in goodness, in faith, in everything; 
but it c^id not crush her. When the forge-hammer comes 
down upon the metal, then its strength is tested. Elva 
refused to be crushed, and, during that week, she gave 
Hoel a week to answer as the limit of time. She went 
about as usual; she stopped none of her preparations, and 
not one word about the subject escaped her lips. 

A week was ample time for Iloel to answer. She had 
written to his lodgings. He could hardly be gone, or, if 
gone, he could not have gone far. Her letter would be 
sent on; he would write and explain everything. It was 
not possitye to keep silent — not possible. But the week 
went by, and Elva said, “ Ten days.” 

Then ten days went by, and Elva began to realize, yes, 
only began then to realize, that something had happened 
which would alter all her life. 

Had she known some reason, she said, “ 1 could have 
borne it;” but to have none, none; to have this curtain 
let down suddenly, which hid all the joy of her life, was 
maddening. Worse still, her pride — and Elva was natu- 
rally proud, though she had hardly realized it before — be- 
gan to assert itself. A less strong proud nature would 
have been crushed — struck down by this sudden storm. 
Elva, on the contrary, stood up straighter, and called up 
all her pride to her help. 

She must have been utterly mistaken. She had given 
her best, her sweetest, to a man who, in a moment, could 
cast it from him. It seemed so strange, so utterly impos- 


306 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


sible, that no theory could fit into it, no ordinary rules ex- 
plain it. 

Now the days of suspense were over. She was thankful 
for these ten days of silence, even in her agony, for she 
thought: ‘‘I have now the power to face the world. It 
must be faced. I will take it on myself — let him go free. 
1 can be generous if he is incapable of being so.” 

So, one cold, cheerless November afternoon, Elva en- 
tered the study before the lamp had been brought in, and 
just when the uncertain wintery light blurred the outline 
of every object, and she said, quite firmly: 

“ Papa, will you do something for me?” 

Mr. Kestell had been better since that fatal day. He 
seemed to have rallied his powers. Still, the sight of Elva 
was a daily sorrow. 

“Yes, darling; anything for you.” 

“ Will yo.u tell mamma and other people that our en- 
gagement is broken off, and that 1 am responsible for it. 
I am. If he came now I would say the same. It is ten 
days since we spoke about it. ” 

“ My poor child; he will never come back. You are 
right. ” 

“ Don’t pity me, please. Spare me what people will 
say. But no, they will not dare say anything to me, and I 
need not think of the rest. 1 will tell Amice. ” 

Elva had gone through her task, and she walked out of 
the room. When she reached the hall she paused. Then 
she noticed that. Amice’s umbrella was not in its accus- 
tomed place. Her sister must be visiting her poor people; 
but she would soon return. In the sitting-room Elva 
heard Symee’s gentle voice reading aloud to her mother. 

How desolate the place was! Every corner seemed more 
or less associated with Iloel. “ Iloel, Hoel, Hoel,” she 
called out, silently; and no answer could come. “ You 
won my love,” she said, “ and now you have despised it. 
Was it so worthless? No, no; I know it was not. I would 
have loved you so truly. 1 would have helped you in 
everything; but you despised me and what I could give. 
Perhaps you always thought little of women, and now find 
that you made a mistake in fancying I was able to help 
you. Why should I mind, if he does not? But I do — I 
do; though no one shall ever know it. Other girls have 
been forsaken, jilted. Some have died of it; but I will 


KESTELL OE GEEYSTOKE. 


307 


not— no, I will not. Why am I not like Amice? She 
would not have been bound by the human love, she would 
have soared higher. 1 have not done this — 1 can not.” 

She hastily put on a red cloak and a hat that hung in 
the hall, and went out down the drive and through the 
gate which led out upon the bridge. Ah, just here she 
had met Hoel; and here, yes, here, Walter Akister had 
crossed their path, and had scowled on them. Had his 
curse borne fruit? Strange, foolish fancies. She walked 
on and stood on the bridge. All was terribly desolate. It 
had rained in the morning, and the tree-twigs were still 
moist and dripping. A gray shade was over the landscape; 
out yonder on the high lands the winds would be blowing, 
here it was sheltered. Elva would willingly have gone off 
at once upon the wild forest land, and tried, as in the old 
days, to feel the same freedom as before, to feel that she 
was one with Nature; but it was too late now, and, besides, 
all was out of tune. The peace which belongs to Nature, 
even in her wildest moods, and which Elva had shared, in 
spite of strange, unfulfilled longings, was gone — gone. 
The discord that belongs to the human race, as apart from 
so-called inanimate nature, had entered her heart. 

44 1 am not the same,” she thought, as, disregarding 
damp and dripping, she leaned over the parapet. 44 I 
never shall be again, never; I can not be resigned. I am 
not good, I can not understand, I will not see that it is 
right; it is not right. No, no; but I will try and hide it 
from the world. That is all I can do.” 

Future aggravating details presented themselves to her, 
just as a man might be annoyed by the buzzing of flies 
when he was lying mortally wounded. The Fitzgeralds 
would be so curious, Mrs. Eagle Bennison would condole. 
Miss Heaton would lift her eyebrows, and even George 
Guthrie, her old friend, would perhaps tease her. How 
she hated the thought of all this; she could have borne her 
misery better if she might have retired to a convent, or 
gone right away; but where could she go alone? Her moth- 
er would not hear of such a thing, and Amice and she 
could not both leave together. Life was hateful, only 
made up of suffering, only — 

She looked up and saw Amice standing close beside her. 

44 Elva dear, it is damp; why are you here?” 

44 1 was waiting for you.” 


308 


KESTELL OF OREYSTONE. 


46 For me? 1 am coming in-doors.” Then the hard- 
ness of the tone struck Amice. She had guessed some- 
thing was the matter, but had not dared to think of it. 
“ Elva, something is the matter; tell me.” 

44 The matter ; yes> and no. My engagement with Mr. 
Fenner is broken off; but you were never very friendly 
with him — you will not mind much.” 

Amice remained speechless. The curse had' indeed 
fallen, and Elva was so hard over it, which meant that she 
was suffering intensely. 

44 Did you break it off?” she murmured. 

44 1 shall say so.” 

44 To clear him. Oh, I never thought he would be so 
cruel. 1 see now he was not worthy, not worthy of you; 
and yet, when I saw him, I — ” 

44 You saw him,” said Elva, passionately. 44 When? 
Tell me, did he come here?” 

She seized Amice's hand with an energy which she had 
never used before. 

44 Yes, he came here.” 

44 And you saw him? Why did he not ask for me?” 

44 1 do not know. Leave it alone; leave it alone. He 
was not worthy of you.” 

How strange that Amice should use the same words. 
But what had Hoel done? 

44 You must, you shall tell me where you saw him!” 

44 In the wood. Oh, Elva, don't ask me any more. I 
do not know; but it is the — ” 

44 The what?” 

44 The curse of gold. It has fallen on you, too.” 

44 What nonsense. Amice; you have said things like that 
often. You imagine because we are rich that we must be 
cursed. It is utterly false. And if Hoel has this idea, 
too, then he is very wrong. But he knew all about it be- 
fore — before I loved him.” 

44 Does mamma know? What will papa do?” 

44 Do? Amice, you madden me. I tell you 1 take it on 
myself, entirely.” 

44 But it is not true.” And Amice raised her blue eyes 
to her sister’s face, and then clung to her. 

44 Oh, Elva, Elva, if I could have borne this for you I 
would have done so — so willingly! Surely if we are pun- 
ished, there may be a place found for repentance. ” 


KESTELL OF OREYSTOKE. 


309 


“ Repentance, his — then — ” 

44 He is ungenerous, he is not noble. But it is a law, 
such a pitiless law — the just for the unjust.” 

Elva did not understand; she was not trying to do so. 
Suddenly she gave way. 

44 Amice, Amice, you are so good. You have never loved 
so entirely, so helplessly, as I have done. What can 1 do? 
What shall I do? 1 loved him so much, so much. I do 
now, even now, though my heart seems filled with bitter- 
ness. It is not I that have given up, he has done it, and 
without giving me one reason, Amice; do you hear— not 
one? I am young and strong; it will not kill me. I am 
well, quite well, even after these ten days. Ten days — do 
you believe me? — ten days, and not one line. It is true — 
true. But you must tell no one. Sometimes I feel I must 
hate him, and yet I can’t. If I could 1 should be happy. 
I have prayed — yes, prayed to think little of him, and I 
can’t — I can’t.” 

Was this Elva? How changed she was. Amice knew 
nowtbat some great turning-point had come — the curse, 
whatever it was, in its fullness. Hoel Fenner knew it, and 
he had forsaken the doomed house. Why should he join 
his lot with theirs? And yet Elva knew nothing of it — 
must know nothing of it — she who so loved her father. 

How was she to offer comfort? There was but one way. 
And there, on the bridge, with the weariness of the damp 
day spreading itself over the. beautiful valley, and over the 
dank grass by the weird Pool, Amice resolved. 

44 1 don’t know how, but somehow there must be restitu- 
tion— somewhere; and then — Oh, prayer is powerful, 
and God must hear me. Let it fall on me, but not on 
her!” 

Aloud, she said: 

44 Tell me how I can help you.” 

44 How? Never mention his name; let me forget him. 
1 must, 1 must in time. But, Amice, he may yet come.” 

44 He will never come. ” 

44 How do you know? Are you all in league against 
me?” 

44 Come in, dear Elva. Is it not best to know the 
truth?” 

44 The truth? There is none. Well, let us go in, and 


310 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


keep my counsel. You and papa accept the inevitable 
easily. ” 

How terrible was Elva’s bitterness to Amice! 

“Me and papa. He said Mr. Fenner would not come 
back?” 

“ Yes; he said so ten days ago.” 

“ The bitterness of death is manifold,” said Amice, half 
to herself, as the two went back. 

As they entered the house, the wind swept up the valley, 
and seemed to heave one long sigh. 

As they passed up the drive, Amice instinctively looked 
toward her father’s study windows. One of them had no 
shutter up, as Mr. Kestell liked to be able to look out. A 
red curtain was drawn across; but it was illuminated by a 
lamp behind it. 

Elva noticed the look, and answered it. 

“ Papa is very good. 1 will try and spare him. He will 
tell mamma. 1 don’t think I could do that. She will ask 
so many questions.” 

“Yes,” said Amice. 

Their steps on the gravel were heard plainly in the study. 
Mr. Kestell was there, and moved the curtain slightly aside 
to see out. It was only for an instant. One glance seemed 
to tell him it was Elva and her sister. 

He let the curtain drop and walked back to his knee-hole 
table, and sat down in his arm-chair. That interview with 
Elva had tried him severely; but also it had given him 
strength. All the time she had been out he had been re- 
covering himself; only now he could put his thoughts to- 
gether. 

“ She has left off expecting him now. It is better so. 
Let me see what can be done. A few weeks more, and it 
would have been all right — a wife has so much power o^er 
her husband, so very much. Still, a little thing may dis- 
turb a whole life. I will think that it is best. Only cow- 
ards go back on the past. The future Is in the hands of 
everybody. One can do so much for the future. How 
much or how little does he know? or is it mere guess- 
work? He saw Button. I have found that out. Button 
died a week too late. He had great vitality, that man. 
Had he guessed something? Anyhow, again, I was right. 
I have those deeds. Had they been in his posession I could 
not have taken them away. He left them here till he 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


311 


should call for them. They are waste paper to every- 
body. Quite useless — not worth the paper they are written 
on. That is all on the safe side.” 

Mr. Kestell paused, and his hand nervously took up sev- 
eral papers and letters and replaced them under his letter- 
weights. 

“ Vicary knows nothing; he would have been down here 
at once. He may guess; but, if so, he guesses wrong. He 
can be made to accept my offer. Card will oblige me in 
this — he is not a questioning man. Fenner is away. It 
all came of their making friends. Who coulc have fore- 
seen and prevented that? No one. Without work, Vicary 
must turn his thoughts to another country. It is so usual 
to emigrate now; every one who can’t get on here does it. 
I have done nothing but what was kind and good toward 
him. Without me, they would have been work-house 
children. Another man would have given up or sold that 
property at once. I waited and lent the money. 

I have robbed them of nothing, nothing — not a penny 
piece. Here is my account-book. The sums spent dur- 
ing all those years. It comes to over four hundred pounds. 
The rest I gave them. 1 don’t grudge it in the least.” 

Mr. Kestell ran his fingers through his white hair. 

All these words passed through his mind; they were even 
pronounced mentally by him with the same distinctness as 
if he had spoken them aloud; but at the same time he 
seemed to possess two clear identities, and this other self 
scorned the words of justification much as the publican 
might have scorned the Pharisee’s words, had he heard 
them. 

Yes, this other self scarce lifted up his eyes as he list- 
ened, and then both were silent as Mr. Kestell, in the 
flesh, rose again and went to a tiny drawer inside the flap 
of his old bureau. From the drawer he took with trem- 
bling fingers a small bottle. It was labeled and corked 
down firmly, with a bit of skin carefully fastened over the 
cork. 

Mr. Kestell walked with it to the window, held it up to 
the light, and examined it closely. He must have done 
this before, as all his actions seemed mechanical. 

“ It seems strange not to believe in death when a few 
drops of this would kill one. Very strange! Other people 
die— every one must die. This is easy to believe; but that 


3153 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 


we ourselves die, must die, that is a difficult problem. 
Sooner or later that veil must be withdrawn. 1 have done 
so much for life, so much for their lives and their happi- 
ness, so much for hers, why not venture a little more. 
Some events in life are like a snow-ball, they become so 
huge as they go on, they accumulate results — strange re- 
sults, too. 

4k But why fight on? Why not end everything to-night, 
and to-morrow be — where? That uncertainty is the crux. 
Religion used to touch me; now it lays a cold hand on me; 
it chills me; I can not believe in it. Its influence has been 
lessening for years ever since — But these thoughts are use- 
less. I am a fool, and I know it. Man talks of a hundred 
paths he may choose, when in reality he is forced but to 
follow one; and that a very narrow one. 

44 Hoel Fenner has gone away pluming himself on his 
probity, on his high-flown sentiments. Put into a place of 
trial, he fails at once. He might have come forward and 
married her; he has enough to live on, and he has a good 
profession; he need not have touched a penny of my 
money. If the righteous are blind, then some hypocrites 
can see plainly. Judged by a higher law, Fenner is a 
scoundrel, who congratulates himself on his honorable mo- 
tives. He loves himself first, best. He would never have 
understood my child. Elva, Elva, why should the sins of 
the fathers be visited on the innocent? Who says that is 
right? No, no, a thousand times noP* 

Mr. Kestell walked back to his bureau and replaced the 
bottle. 

4 4 Not this one — no; not now, not yet. But I must get 
Pink to give me some stronger draught for sleeping. I 
must -sleep. Surely something can give me sleep. To- 
night, especially, I want it, for to-morrow I must tell my 
dear wife. That will be hard; she will feel it. At least 
let her rest now — one more night. 

44 How many men are there who have nothing to hide — 
nothing? Not one, if they were put in the witness-box, not 
one. Witness-box — what do I mean? Only for great 
crimes, glaring crimes, men get there. But for the 
others — The judges would have enough to do. And 
who would judge the judges? 

44 Poor Elva! poor child! Is it her words, her expres- 
sion, that has made me like this? For one moment to feel 


KESTELL OE GKEYSTONE. 


313 


free — free, how would it be? But to face the world, to 
face my wife — No, no. A man has but one path to 
choose, the same that he entered long ago. There is no 
such thing as choice and free will — no such thing. There 
is but one law — self-made; yes, that is it — the law of a 
man’s own mind. ” 


o 


PART III. 


CHAPTER 1. 

SELF-EXILED. 

Boulogne has charms of its own, though the long quay 
and the constant new works which one sees going on in its 
harbor remind one too much of short and unpleasant 
journeys across the Channel. However, one feels that in 
spite of having much in common with every sea-port town, 
Boulogne is on foreign soil. The quaint dresses of the 
fishwives, the patient plodding labors of the seafaring folk, 
their children, and the imperfect drainage are un-English. 
Leaving the quay we plunge into still more quaint thorough- 
fares and narrow streets, the old people are brown and 
bewrinkled and picturesque, and the colored handkerchiefs 
are twisted in a manner unknown to our Portsmouth or 
Southampton poor. 

The difference of race and creed, or thought and man- 
ner of living impresses itself at every step on the stranger, 
and for some time Hoel Fenner had been quite contented 
to vegetate here in a comfortable hotel, believing he was 
amassing valuable notes on the life of a foreign sea-port 
town which would be most acceptable to his paper when 
served up as brilliant articles. 

One reason of his stopping so soon in his continental 
journey was his belief that here he would meet with few 
English. Any of his friends would as soon have gone up 
in a balloon as stopped at Boulogue in the winter; the 
Riviera was the thing, or else Rome or Naples — but Bou- 
logne! No, certainly. Here, then, Hoel could breathe; 


314 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 


and if he kept away from the harbor at the time of the 
arrival of the steamers he felt safe from intrusion. 

But when Boulogne relapsed into its normal state of fish 
shouting and sabot clip-clapping, Hoel might be seen con- 
stantly pacing round that great semicircle of harbor quay, 
smoking and looking about with indifferent eyes. He 
smiled at himself for being capable of vegetating in this 
way, but smiling meant that he was wondering if he were 
really the Hoel Fenner who so short a time ago had been 
the happiest of men — and now! He was not himself; and 
yet every characteristic seemed even more than ever crys- 
tallized in him. Sometimes he felt that it would be better 
to take his passage in the next steamer and go at once to 
Eushbrook House. Elva would be there — Elva the em- 
bodiment of a perfect woman. He had not great powers 
of visualization, still he could recall her words, her pose — 
now and then her face flashed across a dark disk of his im- 
agination, then was gone — but this was the Elva, of his 
first dream. Having once seen a beautiful pearl in an ex- 
quisite and appropriate setting, you do not necessarily 
recognize it as the same when it has been ruthlessly torn 
from its perfect surroundings. 

That Elva, although the same in every way, had gone, 
gone from him and forever. So he said and thought 
over and over again, while he walked wearily round that 
quay. 

When this painful time was over, he thought, when the 
vision of Elva had vanished — as of course it would vanish 
with time — he would never again stop at Boulogne! He 
should hate the place; he sickened at the bare idea of going 
through such another period as this, and yet he ivoald go 
through it. Time was the healer; every man and woman 
who retains a certain amount of common sense — and Hoel 
had much of this commodity — knows perfectly well that 
time does heal, or at all events closes every wound. If 
enough patience can be found to go through the bridging 
interval, then we may hope for quiet again, and for some- 
thing which we may call peace. It is only the raving lover, 
or the half madman, swearing he will die of disappoint- 
ment, who fancies it is otherwise. What many men have 
gone through, surely we are capable of bearing. So argued 
Hoel, forcing this common sense down his own throat, till 
he was sick to death of it, and yet he clung to it as his one 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 315 

safeguard against becoming like the raving lover or the 
weak fool. 

And yet he was much aggrieved that something had gone 
wrong; before now everything had turned up trumps for 
him, and now craven Fortune had forsaken him just when 
he was most capable of co-operating with her. Pshaw! was 
he going to be made miserable by all this? Certainly not! 
Others might rave or plunge into excitement, but he should 
do no such weak things. He would live down every feel- 
ing of disappointment and love, and, what was more, he 
would live it down at Boulogne. 

There were two very decided natures struggling within 
him. The one made up of the concentrated selfishness of 
years was the stronger, and trampled on that new-born 
nature of pure and unselfish love which had been with him 
so short a time; strange that such a weakling could not be 
more easily crushed and annihilated; but patience was 
wanted, and must be invoked — give it time and the stronger 
nature must win. Hoel repeated this to himself, though 
he called his former selfishness peace of mind. 

One firm resolve he mentally uttered many times. He 
should never again set foot in Kushbrook House — never! 

He had two private rooms in the Hotel Tamise. The 
coming and going was nothing to him; he had given no 
address, and he cared nothing if his letters accumulated. 

Let them accumulate. What human soul did he care 
for now? None! His uncle^s business was looked after 
by the new heir; he had washed his hands of everything. 

He waited for Time to finish her work, and Time seemed 
extraordinarily slow over the task. What! Still that 
undefined gnawing feeling, still those flashes of Elva’s face 
— would they never go? He began to get slightly impatient 
with Time. 

One day he passed an English lady on the stairs. He 
took no special notice of her, till just as he came close to 
her he raised his head, and then he felt a sharp stab at 
his heart. How was this? Had not Time done better than 
that? Merely because there was some very slight resem- 
blance to Elva in this stranger, was he to be thrown into 
such a state? He flung himself into an arm-chair in his 
private sitting-room and determined once for all not to be 
the plaything of feeling and of passion in this way. How 
could he, Hoel Fenner, who had been master of himself 


31(3 KESTELL OF GllEYSTONE. 

for years, turn into this weak wretch? He hated Fate, 
and the world, and the strange circumstance which could 
never have been foretold, and he hated every one that was 
happier than himself at this moment, and yet he had 
strength to make a vow that this sort of thing was never 
to happen again — never! 

How could he help on the work of Time? Her progress 
seemed still very slow; indeed, something else must be tried. 

He had a pile of books on his table — for books hafi always 
been dear friends to him — and he hardly dared own to 
himself that now sometimes it had been an effort to stretch 
out his hand for some of his favorite classics. 

It was a very mild winter, and he managed to get the 
proprietor of the hotel to keep him warm, and give him 
almost English-like coal. Creature comforts would surely 
help Time to do her work! It was no good scourging your 
body to heal your heart — that was much too mediaeval in 
this prosaic age. It belonged too much to the raving lover 
type: far be it from Hoel Fenner! 

Life was a mistake — perhaps — yes, it was a failure. 
Looking round it dispassionately, Iloel found nothing 
wherewith to supply what he had lost. Politics might suc- 
ceed, but politics had never been in his line. They savored 
too much of the one-sided enthusiast; a politician was 
bound to be one-sided. Hoel was accustomed to pride him- 
self on his fairness and on seeing all round a subject. 

One day he became aware that it was Christmas-eve. 
There was a fluttering of peasants* garments up toward 
the church on the hill. 

The priests looked full of importance; and by way of 
something to do, Hoel sauntered into the big church and 
saw that a Creche was being made. It was poetical; and 
he languidly took notes for his articles; he tried to put 
down a few ideas that had 210 1 already been thoroughly 
written up. Hoel was so well read that he was sometimes 
hampered in his writing. It was tiresome to repeat old 
ideas, knowing them to be old, even though pretty certain 
no one would find it out. Looking at the Creche, he could 
mentally sketch out a whole paper on the growth of myths, 
he could remember examples from the religious history of 
most of the European countries, he could trace out Christ- 
mas legends that had traveled and changed garments in one 
place and added this or that overcoat of fiction in another. 


KESTELL OF OKEYSTONE. 


317 


He settled at last that really there was very little that 
was new and interesting to be said on this subject, so he 
sauntered out of the church more discontented than be- 
fore, and, what was worse, he knew that Christmas-day 
would bring him more hateful thoughts about Elva, and 
what would have been his wedding-day. 

Maddening all this was; but then that period once 
passed, say in three weeks. Time would have more chance 
of doing her work; so he returned to the hotel, and plunged 
into some odes of Horace. Horace had a sly, sensible way 
of looking at things, and one can at times catch the spirit 
of an author — or one can try to do so. 

Christmas-eve was all very well for children, it should 
be abolished for grbwn-up folk; that fooling about a happy 
Christmas was becoming unendurable, even to the rational 
being. Had Hoel been staying in a country house, or say 
with the Heatons, he would of course have gone to church, 
and stood out the service with gentlemanly decorum; but 
here alone at Boulogne, there was no need to hunt out an 
English church, with most likely a ’dreary congregation 
and a dreary ritual, or the want of one. No, that was quite 
unnecessary. Hoel did not attempt it. But somehow the 
day seemed to shroud itself in ghastly dreary grave-clothes. 
Something was missing — something! good gracious, every- 
thing! Ah, Jesse Vicary, with his well - fortified faith, 
would have made a better business of this. Well, but 
Jesse Vicary, if he knew the truth, would his faith make 
any difference to him ? Was religion a real or an imaginary 
power, even to those ultra enthusiasts? 

So the day wore away, and toward evening when the 
darkness had come out, and only the lamp-lights, like 
fallen stars, joined earth and the starry sky, Hoel saun- 
tered down to the quay for something to do, and to get 
away from his own thoughts. 

On and on he walked, then back again; it was not cold, 
and he hated going in to his loneliness. From mere curi- 
osity he paused at last, and saw a few sailors finishing the 
lading of a small steamer. It was the “ Service du Nuit,” 
somebody said; but the water was low, and the boat looked 
a miserable specimen of its class as Hoel stooped over and 
looked at it. 

Suddenly an English voice struck on his ear. He 
seemed to know it, and turned round quickly. Hidden by 


318 


KESTELL OF G KEY STOKE. 


the shadow of a custom house in front of him stood Walter 
Akister, angrily accosting a sailor in broken French. 

64 The boat doesn’t go till two in the morning. The 
tide won’t be right till then.” 

64 Why does the company not warn one of this? It’s 
abominable.” 

44 The boat will go all right/’ said the Frenchman, reas- 
suringly. 

44 What! that little nutshell? what on earth — ” 

44 Monsieur should have gone on to Calais. The night 
service there meets the train.” 

Forgetting their last meeting, Hoel stepped forward to 
help the Englishman out of his difficulty. 

44 Won’t you come back with me to !ny hotel, Mr. Akis- 
ter?” said the courteous Hoel, and Walter Akister turned 
sharply round to behold the man he hated. 

44 Here! you?” he said, in a low tone, and almost sav- 
agely, as the Frenchman, delighted to get away from the 
bad-tempered Englishman, walked away and left them 
alone. The sailors had finished their work and departed; 
the night patrol was some way off, and the two — oncq rivals, 
if unconsciously so— stood face to face in the gathering 
darkness, for the shops were shut, and some of the cafes 
were closing. 

44 Yes, I am here; but I should be much obliged if you 
will not mention having seen me,” said Hoel, suddenly 
feeling he had done a foolish thing in coming forward. 
What was Walter Akister to him but a mere chance ac- 
quaintance? 

44 Mention it — to whom?” said young Akister; and few 
as the words were, Hoel heard plainly the anger that 
prompted them. 

44 To any one who may know me.” 

44 Do you fancy I should mention your name to any one 
at Rushbrook? I do not wonder you are afraid that your 
dastardly conduct — ” 

44 You are forgetting — ” began Hoel, whose rising color 
was not visible, but who suddenly felt the blood boil in his 
veins. What did this fool mean? Hoel was older, and was 
not going to put up with any nonsense. 

44 Forgetting! I have only just heard that you have 
behaved in a way no gentleman — ” 

44 Stop!” said Hoel, in a voice of suppressed anger. 


KESTELL OE GREYSTOKE. 319 

4 4 You have no right to express an opinion on my private 
affairs; neither have you any knowledge of — 99 

“ Of the fact that you have behaved in a way no gentle- 
man — 99 

At this moment something very unforeseen happened. 
Hoel could bear much,, but not this. He had raised his 
stick, intending to chastise the impertinence of this arro- 
gant youth; but Walter Akister saw the movement. He 
was stronger than Hoel and of bigger frame. The arm he 
raised, not caring how it fell, was a powerful one, and un- 
fortunately the two men were standing on the edge of the 
unprotected quay. But as it happened, Hoel stepped back 
before the blow fell, and he found himself the next instant 
falling, falling into a dark, hideous depth. Then he struck 
the water, sunk, struggled to free himself from something, 
struggled to keep his self-possession and to strike out, but 
something held him down — or what was it? The water 
was bitterly cold — he was sinking again. Why had he not 
been able to swim? Good v God, was this the end? Non- 
sense! the end! Elva! Elva! — what did all that matter 
compared to her — what? More struggling; was he sink- 
ing? How the water choked him; he must rise again. 
W as it his overcoat that was weighing him down? Elva! 
that young idiot — strange mistiness of mind — shouting — 
was he going to remain eternally below water? He had 
been twice down, down — then a desire for help, man’s help. 
He was rising again, gasping painfully. He was conscious 
of intense desire to live, and not to be ingulfed in this 
hideous blackness; he was conscious again of hearing eter- 
nal shouting, and of a light cast on the water, conscious 
again of help coming, of a strong arm grasping him, of — 
but things looked hazy now, as if seen in a mist, quite 
apart from the darkness or the bright light upon the water. 
He made one last effort to strike out, and a feeling of 
utter despair and exhaustion overwhelmed him, and then 
he remembered no more till he woke up in the bedroom of 
his hotel, and still in the same hazy way noticed that sev- 
eral men were near him, one of them a face he had seen in 
the darkness. Akister, that young fool! but even this 
effort seemed too much for him, and he felt himself sink- 
ing again into a black, hideous pit. He fancied that some 
one was chaining him down, some one — yes, Walter Akis- 
ter. He was lost, lost! Was this, was this — the word 


320 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


never was even thought out, for there followed another 
blank. 


CHAPTER II. 
hoel's teacher. 

It seemed a long time again after this before Hoel recov- 
ered further consciousness; but this time it was of a more 
satisfactory kind. He felt very weak and very helpless, but 
he no longer imagined himself to be anywhere but in this 
rational world of ours. There was a Sister of Charity in 
the room, and Hoel was soon able to put the facts together 
in a lucid manner. He remembered falling into that water 
— thinking of it, it was strange he should ever have been 
got out of that black pit. Naturally he had been ill, and 
had been nursed in the hotel. They had got a soeur to 
come and attend upon him. What a capital institution 
they were, these sisterhoods! and with his usual aptitude 
Hoel considered how foolish it would be to put down re- 
ligious communities. He turned his eyes toward the quiet • 
figure, and felt rested by the look, The soeur was very 
nice-looking, and she was working at something so that 
she seemedjike some delightful idea of repose. Presently 
instinct told the soeur that her patient had moved, and she 
came toward him, and spoke in French. 

Hoel thought it was a good thing he was a French 
scholar. 

46 Monsieur would like something to drink?” 

Hoel smiled an assent; and he found out he was too 
weak to lift his hand to the glass, and that, in fact, he was 
being treated like a baby. Strange! 

44 1 have been ill?” he said after a time. 

44 Yes, monsieur, a long time* a very long time; but now 
you are going to be well.” 

44 A long time?” said Hoel, slowly,, for he was sur- 
prised. 

44 Yes, indeed; monsieur has had fever. It was the chill 
in the water; but the doctor is sure you will get well, only 
we must not be in a hurry.” 

44 The doctor?” 

44 Yes, Monsieur le Doeteur Chaumas. He is very 
clever; he came first to you, and he has been so good.” 

44 Thank you,” said Hoel, these being the only words 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOtfE. 


321 


he felt equal to saying. Then he felt tired, and drop- 
ped off to sleep. He could not arrange his thoughts 
very easily, and he seemed to have too many to settle. The 
soeur shaded the light from her patient's face, and waited 
patiently. As she sat there she seemed to be the embodi- 
ment of patience, beautiful patience, which has nothing to 
do with the fever of the world or its restlessness. How 
had she got it? 

Presently there was a knock at the door, and the doctor 
entered. He was a short stout man, with a most benevo- 
lent face and twinkling eyes. 

46 Ah, the bonne soeur , and how is your patient?’ ' 

44 But such a change! He is himself again; but weak, 
ah, so weak! Like a child!" 

44 Good! we shall pull him round. No letters or any- 
thing to show that his friends know?" 

44 Nothing!" 

44 Well, really these English people are most extraordi- 
nary! I have said it before, n 9 e$t ce pas , Soeur Marie? 
And this one is no exception. He falls over the qua}^ is 
overweighted by his clothes; he has been talking to a 
friend, as we suppose, who with heroic courage jumps into 
the water after him, saves him, and comes back with him 
here, sees he has everything, and then goes off, leaving 
neither name nor address in order that we may tell him 
how his friend is getting on. Extraordinary!" 

44 Yes, indeed. And how nearly he died, and no one 
would have known. " 

44 It was a mere chance he lived; and all that raving in 
English! If one must have delirium, ma foi, Soeur Marie, 
let it be in French, for it sounds twice as horrible in that 
barbarous language, doesn't it?" 

The doctor and the sister laughed softly; it was the only 
bit of national pride they could indulge in, for in no other 
way had they shown it in respect to their care of the patient. 

44 Strange that such a handsome and rich gentleman has 
not a relation," said Soeur Marie, again turning toward 
Hoel, who, in spite of his altered appearance, was still 
good-looking. 

44 No address! The proprietor said he had only England 
on his luggage, but that he paid well, and there was money 
in his possession. " 

“Monsieur Durand was not afraid of not getting his 


3 22 


KE STULL OF GREYSTONE. 


money, besides, he is a good man, and had the gentleman 
been poor he would not have turned him out,” said the sis- 
ter, gently. 

M. Chaumas went up to the bed and felt his patient’s 
pulse and looked attentively at him. 

6 4 He is very weak. That was a sharp attack of fever he 
has had; it will be some weeks yet before he can do any- 
thing. He will have you to thank for his life.” 

44 He will have to thank God,” said the sister, softly. 

M. Chaumas shrugged his shoulders and twinkled his 
eyes. 

64 You put it that way, I put it the other. Imagine this 
sick man without a devoted nurse like yourself, Sceur 
Marie, and then tell me, would he have lived?” 

44 A man’s life istn God’s hands.” 

44 Well, I am going. I’ll look in to-morrow. There’s 
nothing now we can do but to watch him carefully and 
feed him constantly. There are a few symptoms I don’t 
like; but if we are to cheer him up after all this, we must 
get at his relations. Ask him, Soeur Marie, as soon as he 
is able to write, when you can send for his friends.” 

Then the sister was left again with her unfailing store of 
patience and her contemplation. There are some women 
who are a mystery to most of their fellow-creatures, because 
they are not governed by the ordinary rules of human 
society. That beautiful passive life of divine patience is to 
some peojfie as impossible to realize as the joys of heaven 
to those who have never heard of Christianity. Soeur 
Marie, without any outward sign of being better than her 
neighbors, was yet surrounded by an atmosphere of such 
sweet gentleness that the worldly stopped and wondered 
and passed on without unraveling the mystery. 

In a few days Hoel began to show a slight degree of 
curiosity, and Soeur Marie was delighted, for she also had 
her questions to ask. 

44 Have I been here long? You said the other day — ” 

44 Yes, monsieur, very long. Ah! what good French 
monsieur speaks. Are you really an Englishman?” 

44 Yes, a t*rue-born son of perfidious Albion.” 

* 4 And you have friends who must be longing to hear 
how you are. If you will tell me the address I will write 
to them.” 

Hod’s face became troubled; the beginning of conscious- 


KESTELL OE GREYSTONE. 


323 


ness was painful. He had seemed to emerge out of a land 
of darkness, and he could remember nothing about it. 
Now the memory of Elva came back, meteor-like, with a 
flash, painfully and clearly. 

4 6 1 have friends, sister, but none who would care to 
hear of me. No, I am content; let it be just as it was be- 
fore. I want nothing. I was out on a holiday, and I have 
time to spare. " 

44 That's strange," said Soeur Marie. 44 No friends who 
care! But there are some who will want to pray for you." 

A real smile of amusement came into Hoel's face. 

44 Pray for me! 1 am sure— No, only one woman 
would pray for me, aud she is thinking I have wronged 
her. No, she is trying to forget me." 

44 We can not forget our friends or our enemies, for we 
must pray for both." 

Hoel answered nothing. A canting nurse seemed to 
him too much of a good thing; he was slightly put out for 
a short time, and then smiled at his own foolishness. It 
was not cant: to her it was religion, some deep motive 
power which made her the self-denying admirable nurse he 
found her. Was it quite fair to complain of the machinery 
which turned out such a useful specimen of human nature? 
Literature had toned down, indeed taken away, the living 
soul out of the body of Eeligion. The body remained, a 
lifeless figure, now and then galvanized into a show of life 
by the enthusiasm of some devoted disciple who mistook 
his own energy for the energy of religion. Was it not the 
same with that wonderful man, Jesse Yicary? But once 
tested, once brought to bear on the weak part of a man's 
character, was it sure to prove the prop a fundamental 
truth ought naturally to be? 

Hoel answered himself with a shade of triumph. No! 
Jesse Yicary had found himself touched to the quick, and 
instead of the meekness supposed to be a characteristic of 
true Christianity the young man had revolted and had 
sworn revenge. 

That was a test case certainly. Beautiful as were re- 
ligious ethics, grand and simple as was unadulterated 
Christianity, it was yet nothing more than the poetic resi- 
due of man's finer parts. 

Eeligion was a great convenience. 

He contented himself by thinking these thoughts, and 


324 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


then patting them away, he gave himself up to rest. Eest 
seemed the greatest good on earth just now. What had 
become of his plans and his ambitions? Gone? That was 
strange. He could never have imagined that his ambition 
would crumble like this, that he would ever feel as if power, 
fame, knowledge would all pass before him, and be reject- 
ed as worthless. It was all because of — 

A woman! 

Hoel turned restlessly on his bed, and once more gazed 
at Soeur Marie. 

44 Are you contented with your dull life, sister?” he 
said, suddenly. 4 4 If so you must need very little to make 
you happy.” 

44 Very little? Nay, I need very much.” 

4 4 Then you must be always wanting more than you 
have.” 

44 Yes, always more of God’s love.” 

Hoel smiled superciliously. 44 That is a language, a 
form of words: every class has its unreal language; we 
men are not exempt from it. I do not despise women; I 
think most highly of them, but I blame them for accept- 
ing these cut-and-dried sentences more easily than we do. 
Suppose 1 could demonstrate to you that there was nothing 
but this world, this sorrowful human mechanism! Where 
would all your phrases go?” 

44 I should know that I had not yet learned what God’s 
love means. With God in our hearts no demonstration 
would prove Him false. ” 

44 Phrases again,” said Hoel. 

Sceur Marie was not angry with him, as he expected her 
to be, for she too smiled as she answered: 

44 You can not tell; you have alw r ays had yourself in 
your heart, no wonder you exalt poor humanity.” 

The unruffled Hoel for the first time in his life w r as in- 
jured. The calm assertion w r as not easy to refute. This 
meek-eyed sister could tell him without faltering that be 
was selfish. 

44 No,” he said, decidedly, 44 I have had for weeks past 
a woman in my heart, and I am trying to dislodge her.” 

44 She proved faithless?” 

44 No, you are wrong.” 

44 She died?” 


•KESTELL OP GREYSTOHE. 325 

“ No, she .lives, and is thinking much the same of me as 
you say/* 

“ Then why dislodge her?” 

“ Because her father — 1 mean there would always be 
a secret between us. Woman is nothing unless she is per- 
fect in every way, unless her surroundings are as suitable 
as herself. You can not understand; but I tell you this 
to show you that I am not always taken up by myself.” 

It was almost pathetic to hear Hoel say this. 

“ Did she love you?” 

“Yes, of course; but fate — God you call it — interferes 
strangely with one’s plans. ” , 

“Yes, that is true. He prevented St. Francis Xavier 
from being a great preacher in Paris, and made him a poor 
missionary. God does interfere with our plans, but He 
can not change His own.” 

“ Pshaw! look here, Soeur Marie, I was to have married 
a beautiful, good woman, and through no fault of mine or 
hers I discovered a hinderauce, and instead of being happy 
here I am in a foreign hotel.” 

“ If the hinderance had nothing to do with the lady her- 
self, why did you not marry her?” 

“ Because i-t touched my honor. No, there was nothing 
more to be said; but can you imagine a worse interference 
of fate?” 

“ I do not understand, of course; but it seems to be that 
it was you who interfered with God’s ways. And the poor 
girl — is she sorrowing?” 

“ Who knows?” said Hoel, angrily. “ I tell you it is all 
a useless interference. ” 

“ You must not talk any more. 1 see now why you will 
not get well. It is the mind that is ill. And for that 
there is but one cure. ” 

“ What?” asked Hoel, slowly. 

“ The touch of Christ. He will heal it.” 

“No more phrases, via soeur . I insist it is all pure, 
pure nonsense, or delusion, or — ” 

“ It is the world that is a delusion. But come, here is 
your medicine. We must not talk anymore. The Angel us 
is ringing.” 

“ Well, we will not talk any more then; but tell me, you 
say I worship myself. 1 give you leave, Soeur Marie, to 


326 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


teach me how to worship something else. Lying here so 
Jong, I am sick of myself, and of my own thoughts.” 

Soeur Marie shook her head. 

“ No, you would not learn of me. You must wait till you 
wish to put some one into the place of your weary thoughts. 
Tlie time will come.” 

“ That is how it is with these saintly people. They 
know not how to impart their poor comforts,” said Hoel 
to himself. 

Perhaps the thought of anything was too much for him, 
for that night he had a relapse, and again came a long, 
long period of illness, and new symptoms which the doctor 
called very unfavorable. 

CHAPTER III. 

NO EXPLANATION. 

March has some delicious days. The sap is rising into 
those almost unseen buds, the birds are beginning to ex- 
press their joy of life, they plume themselves and flutter 
here and there — they love, and they build, and so express 
to us very plainly that love and work make happiness. 
The wild dowers are doing their best to herald future 
glories of blossoming, the lichens seem to become deeper 
in hue, perhaps they too hear the pulsation of life in nat- 
ure, and try, low down as they are, to strive after what is 
grander. We seem even now to smell the 46 violets un- 
born ” anc’ the “water lilies unborn.” The spring is 
coming; one tender sandaled foot is on the earth, and we 
kneel down and kiss it. 

Beautiful Spring, and yet with all the joy there is such a 
look of sadness on thy face! 

George Guthrie had been away, and suddenly he returned 
to Rushbrook and to the varied conversation of Mrs. Eagle 
Bennison on the monotonous subjects of her societies and 
her small gossip. 

Nothing could destroy the fun that would bubble up in 
George Guthrie; even when Mrs. Eagle Bennison explained 
the shocking thing that had happened at Rushbrook, 
George could not look serious. 

“ Some people say that Elva has behaved shockingly; 
and I do hope, George, you, who have so much influence 
with her, that you will try and see if you can not make 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


3 27 


her see how terribly unbecoming it is to throw a man over 
just when your wedding-day is settled. Those girls have 
been badly brought up. Overindulged by their father. It 
is a sad example to the poor. ” 

“But, dear cousin, I can’t agree with you. "We are 
always bemoaning population; now if all our village maidens 
would jilt their intended husbands just before the wedding, 
we should have a simple solution of the difficulty.” 

“ George, how shocking! I am sure that John would 
never have forgiven me if I had thrown him over, but I 
never should. My dear mother taught me my duty better. 
Elva too is so hard, she won’t allow the subject to be men- 
tioned, and goes about as if she were proud of having done 
this dreadful thing. Even the members of the T. A. P. S. 
thought it shocking.” 

“ But the affair was mysterious. Can’t you forgive 
Elva, dear coz, for having just given us something to talk 
about? You may have heard before the remark of Burnet: 
‘ Everything must be brought to the nature of tinder and 
gunpowder, ready for a spark to set it on fire, before some 
people can be made to see anything. ’ Elva, I dare say, 
saw that Hoel Fenner had faults, so she tried him in this 
way. Ten to one she expects him to come back.” 

“ But some peojole say that he jilted her.” 

“ Ah! well, that changes things. 1 wonder you have 
not found out the truth.” 

“ Indeed, I tried, but the whole family seem quite 
changed in character. Mrs. Kestell has resumed her bed, 
with a purely imaginary malady. Mr. Kestell looks years 
older. Pink declares lie has overworked himself, and can 
not sleep — worried about his child, 1 suppose, and Amice 
— really, that girl is more crazy than ever. 1 hear such 
strange stories about her.” 

George was delighted to hear the on dits , though he 
meant to form his own opinion. At present it all seemed 
extraordinary. 

He sauntered out to see his poor people, and heard all 
the gossip over again, but put in plainer words. 

“ Lor’, sir,” said old Mrs. Joyce, whom he went to see 
because lie had made a pilgrimage to Golden Sparrow 
Street to bring her news of ’Liza, “ it’s been the talk of 
the village. Such doings we were to have at Miss Kestell’s 
wedding, and then it all ended in smoke. But she’s a fine 


o2S 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


young woman, and it won’t be long before some other 
man comes courting her. When did you see our 'Liza, 
sir?" 

44 About a. month ago, I think. She was glad to see 
me, but seemed in low spirits, I thought." 

44 Well, sir, I'm sorry to say our 'Liza's coming home, 
because she's that dull she says she cau't abide the place." 

44 That's strange. I thought 'Liza and I were always 
cheerful." 

44 That's your joking, sir. But it's true. Mr. Vicary 
has left, and the girl takes on so that she's coming home. 
We scolded her, too, but it was no use." 

44 Vicary left? What for?" 

44 Didn't you hear, sir? He's left his situation. Work 
was slack, and they've turned him off, and 'Liza says it's 
told on him wonderful. He isn't the same man." 

t4 Has he found something else?" 

44 Not as 'Liza knows on; well, Mr. Vicary, albeit his 
people were poor folk like us, he's been a real gentleman, 
he has. Our 'Liza's just broken-hearted at his leaving." 

44 Does Mr. Kestell know? I'm sure he would get him 
work somewhere else. I'll just mention it to him. I’ve 
been away a long time, so I didn't know all the news." 

44 Well, sir, it seems natural like to see you again in 
these parts. It's more nor 1 can say for some men, as I 
used to say to my husband, whether you're earning a penny 
or not, you'd best be out-of-doors, that's the place for the 
men folk, and, Lor', sir! my husband he were no better 
than a chump of wood." 

44 Yes, certainly," said George, hiding a smile. 44 A 
great many men are like chumps of wood." 

George went on down the hill toward Rushbrook, and 
mused as he went: 

44 Such a short time ago Elva fancied she had discovered 
perfection. Poor child! I have never seen her in trouble, 
but I don’t think she threw him over. Well, well, why 
should 1 interfere? What good can a lone, lorn bachelor do? 
These affaires de cceur must be left alone. I think I had 
better observe 4 the silence of the celebrated Franklin.' " 

But just then George turned round a fir plantation, and 
beheld to his surprise no other than the person he was 
thinking of-^-Elva Kestell was walking side by side with 
Walter A luster. George paused, a curious sensation came 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


329 


over him, and then he quietly retraced his steps, and tak- 
ing another silver-sanded path leading to Mr. Kestell ’s 
house, he reached the first Pool, now beginning to put on 
a spring-like green garment. 

Here he paused. Elva must pass by before she went in, 
and George Guthrie meant to wait for her. 

Walter Akister had been silent long enough — that was 
his own opinion. He had left Boulogne (after courageous- 
ly saviug his enemy from the water), with the firm inten- 
tion of wooing Elva again. He had not paused to inquire 
whether Hoel had friends, or whether he was hurt. He 
knew he lived, and that he had saved him. Walter would 
have saved a drowning dog with just as much feeling as he 
had shown for Hoel Fenner; he despised him too much to 
question him further. His sister Betta had told him that 
Mr. Fenner had jilted Elva, Amice had told her or had 
let it out when Betta had wondered at El vaV conduct. 
That letter had brought Walter home, and yet, often meet- 
ing Elva, till now he had not dared to say anything. It 
was not that she showed any signs of sorrow; on the con- 
trary, she went about as usual alone on the moors; she had 
even gone to a dinner-party with her father, but her moth- 
er’s illness had prevented much greater stir. 

Walter, in search of his ideal, had yet hesitated because 
he saw that she was a different Elva to the woman he had 
seen at the railway accident. 

It is better to disbelieve in a sudden change of character, 
because, except in rare cases, everything changes sooner 
than a man or woman’s character. But those who care- 
fully watched Elva Kestell felt the alteration in her, most 
of all her father. She was more loving, more attentive to 
him, if possible, but she was not the same. 

Amice too saw it, and it affected her powerfully; night 
after night she had paced up and down her room thinking 
that the result was her fault, and that she had ruined her 
sister’s life. If so, she must find a way to bring back her 
happiness. 

As to Mrs. Kestell, she took to her bed from the sheer 
dread of Mrs. Fitzgerald coming down to hear all about 
“ poor Elva’s engagement.” Mrs. Kestell had gloried in 
having got the better of her sister, and now the tables were 
turned. She visited her disappointment and dullness upon 
her husband, and yet she had not been told the truth; Mr. 


330 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


Kestell had invented a long story to account for the unac- 
countable breaking off. 

Certainly Elva was changed. She had drunk so deeply 
of the cup of bitterness that now the taste was always in 
her mouth. She had waited so patiently at first that all 
her patience was gone. It had turned into gall. She rose 
up after the blow, and determined not to be beaten down 
as another girl might be, and the result was a hardness 
which would not be hidden, a pride which scoffed at sym- 
pathy, even sympathy from Amice. 

She took to walking miles along the great lonely road 
that runs through the seemingly endless forest land; she 
watched the early cobwebs melt in the dews of morning, and 
saw them again spread out to receive the minute diamonds; 
she noted the squirrels climb the red stems and scamper 
away to their warm shelters, and she hated Nature and 
Nature’s beauty. So at last she stopped in-doors, and 
read, and read. Books were said to be friends, and she ap- 
pealed to them, but instead of the printed words she saw: 
“ Hoel left me and never told me why; he never answered 
my letter. It was cruel, cruel, and I hate him.” 

These words were seen over and over again, and were 
maddening, so she shut up the books, and wandered by the 
Pools. . That beautiful sheltered walk full of exquisite 
thought and poetry and beauty had one fault. It had the 
power of calling up the remembrance of him. In all the 
fullness of her young love she had walked there with Hoel, 
so she turned away, and fled to the open moorland again, 
and chose little walks he had never discovered, and places 
he had never seen. Here it was that one day Walter Akister 
joined her, and she did not repel him. 

She knew she was wrong; she hated herself for allowing 
his silent sympathy; she said to herself too that Walter 
knew her heart was given away, and could not be his; but 
she let him wander with her and now and then offer her a 
hand over a stile, or talk on about the news in the paper, or 
tell her what his father had last seen; even gradually he 
made her come to The Observatory and see Betta — Betta 
who had had her instructions beforehand, and shyly tried 
to follow them out. 

When a human being is crushed by the unfaith of a 
loved one, Tennyson tells us, it works like madness in the 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


331 


brain. In after-years Elva saw she was mad during these 
days, and yet outwardly she looked calm and self-possessed. 

In spite of all this hardness every morning her first wak- 
ing thought was: 

44 Will he write to-day and explain? Oh, Hoel, Hoel, 1 
loved you so much!” 

Each day brought no answer, and at last sullenly Elva 
accepted the final silence, accepted it at the same time 
that she inwardly rebelled and outwardly grew calmer, 
and her voice now and then sounded as of old, only some- 
thing was gone out of it. 

44 For papa's sake I will keep up, I will not give way. 
I will not show my feelings. He suffers for me. Papa, 
papa, I do love you; your love at least is sure.” 

The day that George Guthrie saw Walter and Elva was 
the first day in which Walter Akister dared to say even a 
word of love. He was a man who would rather have his 
hand cut off than let go something he intended to seize. 
He meant to have Elva, and nothing would prevent him. 
The passionate temper has a power over others as well as 
being a curse unto itself. 

44 Spring has come early this year,” he said, when it was 
time to go homeward. 44 1 never saw things so forward.” 
He looked at Elva sideways, and saw the line of pain hov- 
ering round her smile. 

44 I did not know you kept a chronicle of the first prim- 
rose, the first cuckoo, and the first swallow,” she said, 
scornfully. 

46 Didn't you? 1 suppose you never much cared to know 
what 1 did do. Any way, Elva, I have recorded in a 
special diary every time I have met you for the last five 
years,” he said, suddenly. 

Elva flushed crimson. Had it come to this? Was he 
saying this to the woman who would have been Hoel's wife 
now if — if he had not forsaken her? Ah, well! Hoel had 
known her only a short time, and had won her love merely 
to cast it away again. 

44 You might have noted something more useful. When 
are you going back to town?” 

44 When — when you are my wife, Elva.” 

Elva stopped still now. 

44 How dare you say such a thing, Walter? Did I not 
tell you before that I never would be?” 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


2 


44 Yes.-” 

44 Then why do you dare to — ” 

44 Because since then Hoel Fenner has changed his mind. 
I never change mine.” 

Elva shuddered. The words might have touched many 
women in a way they touched" he r; but she also seemed to 
recoil from this man. 

44 Who told you Hoel Fenner had changed his mind?” 
she said, trying to be haughty. 

44 1 know it.” 

44 And the reason?” Elva spoke superciliously, as if she 
disbelieved every word, and yet, in truth, she longed to 
know what Walter knew. 

44 Yes.” 

44 Then you will tell me?” still very scornfully. 

44 Yes, he was afraid of having to make too many sacri- 
fices for a wife.” 

AVas that the truth? No, no; it was not that. But what 
was it? she said to herself. 

4k It's not true — not true!” cried Elva, dropping her 
tone of scorn, and her eyes flashed out some of the passion 
of her soul. 44 AValter, you have no right to say this. I 
will not hear it!” and without waiting to hear more from 
him, she walked away so hastily that Walter did not even 
attempt to catch her up. 

He looked after her with a fierce, angry look on his dark 
face; all the concentrated hatred of his rival seemed to be 
expressed on his features. If envy, hatred, and malice are 
human propensities, then at this moment AValter Akister 
did not deny poor humanity. 

44 She loves him still, after his conduct — his dastardly 
refusal to marry her. But what do I care? A man who 
has acted as this man can never return, lie can never show 
his face again. Let her love him, but she shall be my 
wife.” 

He did not attempt to follow Elva; on the contrary, he 
turned once more up the hill and went home. His home 
was dull in spite of his devoted sister. Betta was good and 
kind, but she was oppressed by her men folk, and she had 
not enough courage to rise above her troubles and her dull 
life. 

As for Elva, she walked on and on quickly, breathless- 
ly, thinking. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOtfE. 


333 


66 Even Walter knows it; they all know it; they know 
that he left me, and they do not know the reason. Oh, 
God! if only I knew it. Now I never shall — never — ” 

Elva had left Walter feeling very angry, but before she 
was in sight of the bridge her anger had calmed down; 
once more there stole over her the terrible cioud of de- 
spondency against which it was so hard to struggle. 

Suddenly she remembered she must put on her usual 
manner, for there was George Guthrie leaning over the 
parapet, evidently studying the lights and shades on the 
water. Elva was angry that she was thus forced from 
proper pride to appear careless and happy. It was almost 
worse before an old friend who knew her — and him— so 
well than before strangers. 

“ There you are, Elva. You came like a ghost. I have 
been waiting for you. Have you had a nice walk?” 

Elva paused; positively she was unable to answer in the 
usual bantering tone George at once assumed. 

46 No, not nice; I was with Walter Akister.” 

“Ah, I thought I saw you.” George nowand then 
stretched the truth. 

There was a pause, and Elva came and leaned beside 
him against the bridge. Her face was pale, except for two 
bright spots of color, her hands were thinner aud very 
transparent; one saw a haggard look in them which is a 
very tell-tale sign of deep mental feeling. George broke 
the pause; he suffered for his friend with that deep, sym- 
pathetic feeling which lay beneath his genial fun and chaff. 

“1 am sorry, Elva, for — for all that has happened.” 
He thought it better to break the ice at once; it was im- 
possible to ignore facts when they knew each other so well, 
but Elva was up in arms at once. 

“Sorry! Why should you be?” Then she laughed a 
little. “ We thought we knew each other's ways and 
minds, but like many other people we found we had made 
a mistake . 99 

“I can't understand it. Don't frown, Elva. May I 
say at once that it is a mystery to me? Tell me, can 1 go 
to him and see if — ” 

How Elva longed to grasp this friendly hand, and to say: 
“ Go; it is a mystery to me too; go and find out!” But 
pride was too strong. 

“ Than^: you, George; such things are quite beyond the 


334 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


power of a third person. You can’t mend china cups, can 
you? and it is a third person who puts in rivets, and very 
ugly they look. Besides, after a time they come apart 
again.” 

u You were never bitter before,” said George, deeply 
pained. 

44 No, 1 never was; I am changed, I think. I can’t help 
it. Whatever I do now will be done by a third person. 
Oh, George, life is so miserable now, and, just think, only 
so short a time ago it was so happy, so very happy!” 

44 Let me do something.” 

44 What can you do? Even if you could, I would not let 
you go to him; but you can not, no one knows where he 
is. Then papa is ill; that is almost a comfort— he leans 
on me, and could not spare me. All this has tried him. 
George, papa has the tenderest heart of any man I ever 
knew. He just prevents me from disbelieving in mankind 
altogether — he and you!” 

44 Upon my word, Elva, there’s some mystery in all this. 
Will you trust me? all the poor people do; why shouldn’t 
you? Well, honestly, Elva, do you know of any reason 
why Hoel Fenner, a gentleman, if ever there was one, 
should have done this? I know you did not.” 

Elva covered her face. Pride fled before this true- 
hearted sympathy. 

“Honestly, George, there is no reason, not one. You 
know originally he fancied I had too much money, but 1 
soon showed him that was pure nonsense. Then his uncle 
died, and left him nothing; but Hoel never expected to be 
his heir. There is no reason except that he got tired of 
me, or — or— I don’t know. If only 1 did — But there, 
it’s no use talking about it,” she said, with her strong will 
forcing back the useless tide of regret and disappointed 
love. 44 George, you are the first, the only person, I have 
spoken to like this. Promise me you will forget it. Tell 
no one. I have always trusted you, let me trust you at 
least. Come in and see papa, it will cheer him up.” 

They walked over the bridge together, and before open- 
ing the swing-gate, George Guthrie paused again. 

44 Elva, may I say something? We are old friends.” 

44 Yes.” 

44 Don’t judge Hoel Fenner yet. There must be a rea- 


KESTELL OF C4 RE Y STONE. 335 

son, the man is not mad. I will go and find him. In 
these flays nobody is lost.” 

“ No, no, George. 1 wrote and he did not answer. It 
is kinder to forget — entirely to forget. Promise me that 
you will never mention this subject again. 5 '’ 

George Guthrie wanted to say: “ Don 5 t let Walter 
Akister make you untrue to yourself, 55 but he dared not. 
When anything did stir the depth of his feeling, George 
Guthrie was as weak as a woman. 

“ I promise nothing about myself, Elva, but of course I 
shall respect your wishes. You will always let me be your 
friend. 55 

She gave him her hand, and George Guthrie felt at this 
moment the full beauty of friendship; but his was a rare 
case, and such Platonic friendship has few examples on 
earth. 

When they entered Rushbrook Hall, George Guthrie 
registered a vow that whatever the mystery of Hoel Fenner 
might be, he would discover it. He reserved judgment, 
though pretty sure in his own mind that it was HoePs fault 
somewhere — somehow — 

“ The maids a coxcomb. Has ideas that Elva will be 
too expensive a luxury. Ten to one he did expect that 
uncle’s money, and threw up the whole thing when the 
old man died. Still, it was dastardly conduct, and Hoel 
Fenner’s a gentleman of honor. No, George Guthrie, 
that puzzle doesn’t fit. Try something else.” 

Elva opened the study door. 

“ Papa,” she called. George admired the bright tone 
she forced into her voice. “ Here’s George come back.” 

George saw that Mr. Kestell was writing at his table; 
he saw him look up quickly and almost suspiciously; he 
saw that for half a moment lie stared at the visitor as if 
he did not recognize him, and then the recognition came 
quickly and the curious looks fled. 

“ George Guthrie — come in, my dear fellow. I’m very 
glad to see you.” 

George came in, and then a strange feeling came over 
him as he thought: “ Old Kestell has been much tried by 
all this. He is changed — very much changed. ” 


336 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE STRENGTH OF WEAKNESS. 

It was that same evening that the spring weather which 
had come too soon seemed to hurry away again as if afraid 
of the reception it might meet with. Winter returned, 
loath to leave Rushbrook valley, and once more the wind 
swept over the forest land, and snapped off the boughs of 
trees by the Pools, and ruffled the deep water, and sent 
little eddies over their inky blackness. 

It was late in quiet Rushbrook, and all the household 
had retired to rest from the dwelling-rooms. Even the 
master of the house had been persuaded by Elva not to sit 
up this evening, because Mr. Pink had said he must 
“ court sleep by early devotion to that mistress.” 

But there was one person who did not sleep, who did not 
even court sleep. Amice Kestell had been kneeling for an 
hour in prayer; she was more and more accustomed now to 
live away from Elva and her father, because Mrs. Kestell 
required so much nursing, or rather individual attention, 
that she was seldom out of the sick-room. Had she not 
been willing to do this, Symee’s strength would have been 
worn out, and Symee herself looked so pale and miserable 
that it was a wonder she kept up. 

Amice vas one of those whose lives can not be under- 
stood by the ordinary man and woman. She had been go- 
ing thioagh a period of acute mental suffering, and yet she 
had appealed to no one for sympathy or help, but night 
after night she spent much time in prayer. 

Ever since the day that she had met Hoel Fenner in the 
wood, Amice fancied she had done wrong. She said to 
herself that she ought to have forced Hoel to explain him- 
self, she ought to have told him that whatever he did, 
whatever he thought, Elva was not to be made to suffer; 
in fact, she ought to have insisted on hearing all he knew. 
Mingled with this self-reproach was a stronger feeling that 
the curse had fallen, that now, whatever the sin of her fa- 
ther might be — and in Amice’s mind it was clear that some 
mystery enveloped them — now was the time for her to sac- 
rifice herself for Elva. 

Why was Elva to suffer when she, Amice, was ready to 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


33 ? 


offer herself? And on her knees the girl, full of the spirit 
of the early martyrs, prayed to bear the punishment. She 
could not unravei the story of the sin, but she fancied she 
knew that it related to gold. Had she not always had that 
shrinking from it? Was she not sure in some way that (if 
she could only find out the clew) 4 4 John Pellew ” was the 
man who had been wronged — wronged by her father? 

“The sin has found us out in Hoel Fenner; but why 
should Elva suffer when I am ready? Take me, take me, 
oh., Lord! 1 care nothing for the gold, only for their hap- 
piness!” 

Sometimes, as the girl prayed, one of these strange 
periods of acute sensation would come on, and full of hor- 
ror at some unknown, intangible something, she felt as if 
she must rush away out of the house into the darkness. 
It was the same feeling that takes possession of human be- 
ings when they feel the earth shake, and all power of 
thought, except the thought of flight, seems to forsake 
them. 

This evening the storm of wind that raged without in- 
creased the feeling of horror, and suddenly starting up, the 
girl, pale as death, seized a white shawl, and wrapping it 
around her, made some steps toward the door. Then she 
paused, and, changing her mind, she went and listened at 
Elba’s door. She bent her head and held her breath, but 
all was silent. Elva was sleeping. 

44 No, no; it is not here. She sleeps. Oh, God, she 
sleeps! Where am I to go? Some one wants me!” 

Again she crossed the room, and very silently opened 
the door into the passage. Here all was darkness and 
stillness, except for the sound of wind. No human foot- 
step or voice could be heard. 

Amice needed no light, she had always had a wonderful 
knack of finding her way in the dark. 44 Some one wants 
me,” she repeated to herself. 

She came to her father’s door, and hurried past it, 
shivering, then a light broke in upon her overwrought 
brain. 

“It is Symee,” she said, half disappointed. 44 Syrnee, 
of course.” She had fancied the clew was about to be dis- 
covered. 

Then she walked up to the girl’s room, and opened it 
without pausing. 


338 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


66 Symee, you ought to be in bed. What is the matter?” 
for Symee was kneeling by her bed, sobbing as if her heart 
would break. She started up. 

64 Oh, Miss Amice, why have you come? I am so mis- 
erable, so wretched! There never was any one so wretched 
in all the world! It is all my fault, my own fault!” 

44 What is it, Symee?” Amice noticed a crumpled letter 
in the girl’s hand. 

44 It is from Jesse, Miss Amice. He told me not to tell 
any one here; but 1 must — I must tell you. He has been 
out of work for some time now, and he can’t get any more. 
1 have begged him to let me tell Mr. Kestell, but he won’t. 
He writes such dreadful things; he says he would rather 
starve than accept a penny of his money. He refused to 
emigrate, and now, when I write about it— Oh, Miss 
Amice, my heart will break, and I feel as if it w r ere my 
fault!” 

44 Out of work? How is that? Did he leave the office? 
Why did you not tell me before?” 

44 No, they gave him notice. Business was slack. Mr. 
Kestell could get him another situation, but I dare not ask 
him; he would say Jesse refused the farm in Canada. 1 
can’t bear to think that perhaps he is wanting food.” 

44 You must go to him, Symee. I can’t understand. 
Papa used to say — ” Amice paused; a flash of light 
seemed to tell her the truth. Her father had wanted 
Jesse to emigrate, and on his refusal he had been dismissed 
from Card & Lilley’s. No, chat would be too dreadful; it 
could not be true. She herself was wicked for supposing 
such a thing. 

44 Go to him? How can I, Miss Amice? I would go if 
1 dared; but how can I? Mr. Kestell will not let me. I 
can not be spared — no, no. I refused before, and now — 
and yet Jesse will starve! I have a little money saved; if 1 
were there he would not know that I spent my money. 
Now he will not touch it. Oh, Jesse, Jesse!” 

44 You must go to him to-morrow, Symee. Never mind 
about money. I have enough for you both. 1 can borrow 
it if necessary. As to being spared, now mamma does not 
get up, I can do all that is necessary; besides, we are rich 
enough to get nurses. No, you must go to-morrow, and 
I will go with you. During that time my sister will stay 
at home. Don’t cry, Symee; all will yet be well.” 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


339 


“ How can I go? You do not know. Besides, Jesse 
has taken a room at some cheaper place. He is no longer 
in his old lodgings. He will say it is not a fit place for 
me. Oh, Jesse! What can I do? I dare not go. Miss 
Amice. With one word he could have the farm. Mr. 
Kestell told me to tell him so several weeks ago, but I do 
not know what has come to Jesse. He is changed, quite 
changed! It is dreadful!” 

Amice laid a cool hand on the girl’s burning forehead. 

44 Hush!” she said. 46 Hush! Don’t you know, Symee, 
that we can not go on when God bars the way? we do but 
struggle uselessly. Do you see that now, even though the 
path is thorny, God -shows you how you may walk in it? 
You refused it when it was less rough, and now — Oh, if 
we could only just let Him take our lives in His hands, we 
should never be sad — never! It is our restless striving to 
shape our own lives that brings us sorrow. He never gives 
us any sorrow that makes us unhappy. Come, Symee, do 
not cry, but just trust Him.” 

The soft tones, the soothing words, seemed to have a 
healing effect. Symee got up, and the tears slowly ceased. 

44 Will you really come with me? And what will Mr. 
Kestell say?” Symee had very little courage. 

44 1 will tell him, Symee; just do as I think best. You 
must go to-morrow. You have delayed too long already.” 

And after that Symee slept; there seemed such strength 
in Miss Amice’s words; when she said something it had to 
be done. To-morrow she would go! How she would get 
away she knew not, but it would be done. 

Amice felt strong now. Up till now she had trembled 
before her father, but she was getting over her fear. It 
was Elva’s sorrow that had made her brave. All day long 
she said to herself: 

44 Somehow I must expiate that unknown wrong done to 
an unknown person.” 

Just as the carriage had come round to the door for the 
master of Bushbrook, Amice walked into the study. 

“Papa,” she said, calmly, yet with her blue eyes bent 
on the ground, 44 papa, I am going to take Symee to Lon- 
don to-day.” 

Mr. Kestell was folding some papers, and putting them 
into a large pocket-book. 

44 Symee to London? What for?” 


340 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


“She is going to her brother. He is in trouble.” 
Amice looked up, and though her voice was calm, she 
grasped the back of a chair to still her trembling. Her 
father walked away and opened a drawer so that she could 
not see his face. She noted, however, that he stooped 
more; the gray hair had become whiter. Elva would often 
call it his venerable love-locks, but Amice never joked her 
father. 

“ Has your mother said she could spare Symee for the 
day, dear?” His voice was almost tender. 

“No, papa, it is not for the day. It is for good. Symee 
must go. We have kept her here too long. She ought to 
go to her only relation now he is in trouble. How can she 
learn to be a good woman if we crush out her natural 
affection? Shall I bring back a nurse from London?” • 

Again a slight pause, and still Mr. Kestell kept his back 
turned; then suddenly a terrible trembling seemed to 
possess him. He rose up to his full height, and turned 
upon his child with the wrath which is so overwhelming to 
the young— -the wrath of the aged. 

His voice shook, but was not raised much, and his hand 
seemed to be trembling from very strong emotion. 

Amice turned cold as her father approached her; she 
seemed frozen with fear. 

“ Amice, how dare you do this — this thing? How dare 
you take upon yourself to interefere in my house, with my 
affairs? What right have you to thrust yourself continu- 
ally between me and what I cdhsider to be justice? I for- 
bid you to take Symee away — do you hear, I forbid it! If 
Vicary is suffering, it is from his own obstinate folly, his 
own confounded pride. He has had the offer of a first- 
rate position in Canada, and he has refused it; now let 
him learn what it is to want work. I am in a hurry. 
Amice. Let me hear nothing more of this!” 

A dreadful feeling of dizziness passed over Amice. Never 
had she seen her father like this. She longed for Elva’s 
presence; but she would not give way*. 

“ I am very sorry you are angry with me, papa, but tell 
me if Jesse Vicary lost his work because — because he re- 
fusedjour offer of the Canadian farm?” 

That truth is stranger than fiction is a very trite remark; 
but its very triteness shows how terrible may be its truth. 
At this moment Mr. KestelTs trembling hand seemed un- 


KESTELL OF G HEY STONE. 


341 


consciously to raise itself as if he would seize Amice and 
shake the life out of her. A lurid light flashed in his eyes, 
followed by a look of hatred, most awful in the eyes of any 
human being, but far more awful in those of a father to- 
ward his child; and all the time Amice never lowered her 
eyes, but gazed horror-struck and speechless at the sight 
before her. 

She understood, and her father saw she did so, even be- 
fore, with almost superhuman power, lie let fall his hand 
upon the table. The hand was now powerless; it could 
not now have shaken a mere child. 

“ Go!” he said, faintly. “ You know, or you might 
know, if you had any heart, that these— these scenes are 
most distressing to me, most injurious; I command you to 
leave me!” 

Amice's lips moved, but her power of utterance seemed 
gone. Her tender heart was breaking. 

“Go!” he repeated. “You are a cruel, unnatural 
chi id! If I were to — ” 

“ Papa, papa, don't!” cried Amice, finding speech un- 
der the terrible expectancy of a father's curse. “ Don't 
you know that I — 1 must do it? Don't you at least under- 
stand that if — if it would take it away, you might kill me? 
I would only be, oh, so glad! But we must not keep 
Symee, we must not — don't let us have that upon our con- 
science — that as well as — ” 

Mr. Kestell felt as if something had overtaken him; he 
was not himself — the venerable, venerated Kestell of Grey- 
stone, standing in his luxurious study, talking to his gentle 
Amice; but lie was out upon a bleak, stony land, a storm, 
such as he had never before experienced, was raging around 
him; the lightning flashed across the sky, and showed him 
every object — no, every action of his life for years past, 
with terrible plainness. Only one had not yet been re- 
vealed to him, and he was about to see that. How unnatu- 
ral his voice sounded ! 

“ As well as what, Amice? Pray speak out; I hate these 
foolish mysteries!” 

“ As well as— John Pellew.” 

Mr. Kestell breathed a deep sigh of relief. The light- 
ning had flashed across the sky, and had not revealed the 
object he dreaded to see. He laughed now, and the laugh 


342 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


sounded worse in his daughter's ears than his words of 
anger. 

“John Pellew! What do you mean? Ah! I suppose 
that scoundrel Fenner told you of his relationship with 
him. Unfortunately for me, I knew the poor fellow, and 
had to pay his debts as best I could after he left the coun- 
try. It was fortunate for his family that he died before he 
plunged back into dissipation." 

“ The carriage is waiting, sir," said Jones, opening the 
door, and as if he had been a prisoner in his own study, 
Mr. Kesteli immediatly followed the butler out of the room, 
leaving Amice standing alone. There came a distant call 
in Elva's voice: 

“ Papa, papa, don't forget to take your plaid;" and in 
another moment his eldest daughter ran into the hall, and 
passed her arm into that of her father. 

“ You naughty, dreadful dad! why, I told you at break- 
fast that you were not to forget it, and now you have. I 
must go and fetch it out of your study." 

“ No, no, darling; I prefer this rug. Jones, put it into 
the carriage. Why, you look more like your old self, dear! 
Don't leave your mother to-day. I shall be back early, 
most likely for luncheon. " 

“ Shall you? I am glad. Why, this morning you said 
you were coming home late. You are using the liberty 
granted only to ladies, sir." 

Mr. Kesteli smiled and kissed Elva, then hastily entered 
his carriage. 


CHAPTER V. 

ANOTHER SON-IN-LAW. 

When the carriage had gone about a mile toward Grey- 
stone, Mr. Kesteli pulled the string, and said he would get 
down. 

“ Hunter, just drive on, and leave this note at the 
office. 1 think I shall walk home. I am not very well." 

“ Shall 1 drive you back first, sir?" 

“ Oh, no! a little air will do me good. The air is fresh 
after the storm." 

“ Yes, sir; it was a very sudden storm. They prophesied 
it in the papers for to-day, but, like everything as come 
from 'Merica, it's more showy than certain. 'Merica’s 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 343 

the curse of the age, sir, with its cheap machinery and its 
confounded weed, not to mention its storms, sir.” 

Mr. Kestell smiled, nodded his head; the footman shut 
the door, got up on to the box, and the carriage drove off. 

The coachman was an old and valued servant, and was a 
privileged person. 

“ The old gentleman seems very different from what he 
used to be,” he remarked. 6 4 So undecided. He used to 
take such a pride in his word. To my mind, it comes of 
seeing a doctor so often. When my missus wants to send 
for Pink, I says to her: 4 Don't 'ee do so, missus; there's 
more of the Old Gentleman in doctors than there is in 
lawyers, excepting the master, Tom, for he's one of the 
best and nicest gentlemen you can have to do with.' '' 

Mr. Kestell walked slowly back along the road, then, as 
if afraid he might meet some one (though not many per- 
sons were to be met hereabout), he turned off into a path 
which led to higher lands, and from whence, making a 
circuit, he could descend into the road by the Pools. 

It was a day that looked like autumn, perhaps because 
of the rain which had fallen in the night. There was a 
slight haze over everything, softening the shadows and 
sunshine of spring. By and by, when this was dispersed, 
it would be hot. The bare trees were beautiful in their 
delicate outline, and did not look sad or dreary among the 
firs. Winter never really looked sad at Ruslibrook, be- 
cause of its evergreen woods, and its rich carpet of heather. 
The robins were chirping with undisguised cheerfulness, 
there was a thrush seeking for building material by the 
last Pool, when Mr. Kestell stepped on to the road. 

Spring that so often stirs the young blood to build beau- 
tiful castles in the air, and which to the old brings a 
dreamy, happy foretaste of the heavenly rest and beauty, 
only made this man inexpressibly sad, as he paused by the 
tangled hedge, where the dog-mercury shot upward from 
the moist bank, and the speedwell peeped out with its blue 
eye, like the first herald of summer flowers. 

Heaven defend the old from sorrowful back-looking; 
such are the avenues of Remorse, though Repentance 
stands by the way-side. 

Mr. Kestell walked over the grassy path which separated 
the two highest Pools that were furthest away from Rush- 
brook. There had been an old lock here, in times gone 


344 


KESTELL OF G HEY STOKE. 


by, by which these two pools had been able to be drained, 
the one into the other; now the communication was cut 
off, and the old wood- work remained. 

Mr. Kestell leaned against it, and gazed down in the 
water. It was very deep, so deep that here and there the 
surface looked inky black. How calm and peaceful it was! 
it seemed to comfort and quiet the still shaken nerves, set 
vibrating by the morning’s passionate feelings, for anger, 
like a pendulum, returns from whence it started. He who 
gives it its impetus will himself feel the rebound. 

If x\mice had suffered, Mr. Kestell had endured agony. 
Now he was, as was often the case, arguing with himself. 

44 What a fool I was to be so easily roused — fool, fool! 
Did I not resolve only the other day that nothing should 
again take me off my guard? Strange that philosophy can 
not be more easily learned! 4 Les malheurs cles mallieurs 
sont ceux qui n’arrivent jamais / some Frenchman said, 
and he embodied in the words a tremendous truth. I have 
gone through a critical period, but it is over now; nothing 
really remains that can bring up the past with certainty. 
Vicary will have enough to do with finding his own sub- 
sistence; I can’t pity him; he was blind to his own interest. 
Why does he mistake his own good fortune? What will 
he gain by struggling with an imaginary wrong? He can 
not know — and lie imagines wild theories. Why waste his 
life, his youth? Poor fool! he will think differently when 
he comes to be old. Old — yes, I am getting old! Ah! 
how seldom one likes to acknowledge that old age has 
come! Some one says: 4 Let not a man desire life! Let 
him not desire death!’ Does any man really desire death?” 

Mr. Kestell moved slightly, and looked further down 
into the black water. 

44 Does he? What will death do for man? Will it bury 
his secrets forever, or will he be beyond the reach of dis- 
covery? Ah! who knows whether death will bring oblivion? 
Shall we see our private thoughts, our secrets, handled 
ruthlessly by the living, and yet not be able to interpose 
one word, not give one explanation to soften down their 
estimate of us? Poor people! many of the living are 
stupid; they can not clearly trace the minute steps which 
bring a man to unfortunate results, and yet perhaps more 
often than not, indeed, the original mistake has been so 
slight, so pardonable, as to be a mere nothing compared 


KESTELL OF GIIEYSTONE. 


345 


with the result. But why trouble one’s seif about the fut- 
ure? The present only is sure — the present; there is yet 
time, and time is everything. Sound sleep is like death. 
The brain is stilled then —stilled! Doctor Pierquin saw 
the vermicular motion during a dreamy period, and saw 
that in sound sleep the brain is quiescent. Death must 
therefore be devoid of thought — it is with matter in motion 
that we think, stillness is without ideas. How strangely 
calm the water is to-day — all thought at rest upon it! One 
might say not a ruffle — not a movement. Ah! what was 
that?” 

The strange stillness was broken by a step through the 
brushwood behind him. Mr. Kestell did not stir; he did 
not even look round, till a voice called out: 

“ Mr. Kestell! It isn’t often one can find the man one 
wants. This is luck.” 

It was Walter Akister. 

There was a look of supreme content over his usually 
dark and morose features. 

Mr. Kestell let go his hold of the wooden beam, and 
held out his hand to the young man. 

46 You must wonder at my unusual presence here; I can 
not remember when 1 gave myself the pleasure of a morn- 
ing stroll. ” 

Walter cared nothing about Mr. Kestell’s walks, he was 
too full of his own concerns. 

“Iam very glad, anyhow, that you are here, Mr. Kes- 
tell. I was wondering when 1 could see you to-day, but I 
would much rather see you out here. 1 want to speak to 
you about — ” 

“ About Elva?” said Mr. Kestell, hastily, seeing Akister 
paused. The old man was quite himself again, and the 
kindly look returned to his eyes. “ My dear fellow, I 
think I can guess your meaning. Indeed, yours has been 
a very faithful affection, very unlike — ” 

“ Don't mention that scoundrel; 1 do not wish to be a 
murderer, but 1 was sorely tempted to leave him to his fate 
on Christmas-day. He is gone — gone for good — and I am 
heartily glad of it. If I have your leave, sir, I hope in 
time that Elva — ” 

Mr. Kestell eagerly grasped Walter’s hand. 

“ Your father is a very old friend, Walter, and we have 
known you for years; I would not force my children’s in- 


346 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOHE. 


clination, but if Elva could forget that short, sad, unac- 
countable episode, nothing would give me greater pleasure 
than to see her your wife.” 

“ If she can forget,” said Walter, gloomily. “ That is 
the question. You should have forced an explanation 
from him, sir; he should have been horsewhipped.” 

Evidently the savage tone grated on the old man, for he 
said, very gently: 

“ At my age, Akister, one has to restrain one’s natural 
impulses; besides, Fenner never gave me the chance. I 
have made careful inquiries, and I can hear nothing of 
him. He went abroad and left no address.” 

“ And Elva does not know?” 

“ She is entirely ignorant — ” 

And Walter kept his own counsel. 

“ May 1 tell Elva it is your wish?” 

“ By all means. Nay, more, I will tell her so myself, 
Akister; I will do everything to forward your wishes. Elva 
is young; my greatest happiness will be to see her get over 
this sad trouble.” 

Walter shook the hand held out to him, and without 
further conversation he turned away and plunged again 
into the upland forest and disappeared. 

“ It must be soon,” said Mr. Kestell to himself, “ very 
soon; in that case, all might be well. Poor child, it will 
be better for her in the future. AValter is not the man to 
care for anvthing but her. If Fenner had been like that 
—ah!” 

Then he fell to musing again about Elva, till, though it 
was by no means hot, beads of perspiration stood on his 
brow, and it was painful to see the way in which the nerves 
started forward, and had the appearance of being knotted 
and swollen. 

“ Such a small thing, such a small thing!” he said, look- 
ing once more at the black water. “If 1 had to begin 
again, should I do otherwise? They can see my account- 
books and judge for themselves. I have spent the whole, 
and more than the whole, on them. And now they are 
ungrateful.” 

He did not know how long he stayed here, only he 
guessed by the way the mist had all cleared away, and the 
sun had come forth in all its brilliancy that it was getting 
on toward the early lunch-time. He would not look at his 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


347 


watch, having a faint idea of saying that he did not know 
the time, and this care to keep to the literal truth made 
him smile at himself. 

44 One can not be too particular,” he said, aloud, and 
with these almost puerilg thoughts he walked home along 
the road by the Pools. On the bridge he saw Elva; she 
was looking out toward the high-road, and did not see him 
till he called her: 

44 Elva! Well, darling?” 

Elva’s face lighted up with a smile, a smile she only gave 
to him now. 

4 4 Papa, how did you come here? Why, you will be in 
time for lunch! That is nice, for I am all alone.” 

44 What is the time, dear? I never looked at my watch. 
How is your mother?” 

44 Why, that is just it, papa, she is fast asleep now, and 
Ellen is with her. I came to see if Amice had sent a tele- 
gram. 1 told her to let me know if a nurse were coming.” 

What! That again? Must he always have everything 
against him? 

44 A nurse? Whaft do you mean?” 

44 Oh, you know, papa, Amice has taken Symee away to 
her brother, and how we are to manage I don’t know, 1 
am sure. Amice said you knew all about it.” 

44 I — I knew?” he stammered. How much did Elva 
know? 

44 Yes; have you forgotten? She told you, Amice said 
so, and she is so particular.” 

44 Well,” Mr. Kestell spoke dreamily, and Elva looked 
at him anxiously. Lately her father had seemed sometimes 
not to understand quickly what was said. 

44 It seems Vicary is in trouble, and Symee feels she must 
go. She cried very much, poor girl; but it is better, of 
course, to be on the safe side. One would be sorry if she 
were unhappy here. ” 

Mr. Kestell waved his hand slightly, as if the subject 
were of no importance. 

44 Elva, I have just met Walter Akister.” 

. Elva blushed painfully. 

44 Did he speak to you, too, papa?” 

44 Yes, to me, too, darling.” 

44 But you said nothing?” 


348 


KESTELL OF G EE Y STONE. 


“ I said it was the dearest wish of my life, and, darling, 
I have — I may have very few more years to live.” 

44 How can you speak so? No, no, love is not for me; 
it can not be, after — what has taken place.” 

44 My poor child! but do not* fancy that a young heart 
can never recover. Sad and terrible as was the ordeal, 
surely you can not think of him now in any light but one 
that is unfavorable.” 

“ Papa, don’t speak of it! Sometimes I feel as if I must 
hate, as if 1 do hate him. But then at other times all the 
old feeling comes back. Papa, papa!” 

The flood-gate of reserve was open, and Eiva gave way. 

“ Hush, darling,” he said, in a voice of infinite tender- 
ness. 44 This distresses me extremely.” 

Elva tried to quiet herself, but failed. 

“It is a living death. I would do anything — anything 
to get out of it; if I only knew — if 1 had some reason, 1 
would not mind then, papa; indeed, 1 would try and bear 
it. I do now, I have been brave, 1 have tried new occupa- 
tions, new interests, and all of it is like dust in my mouth. 
It all revolts me. I want only to know, just to know. 
Papa, you have had such a happy life, you have always 
had the one you loved near you, you can not tell what it 
is. It is like a great madness coming down upon me. I 
go about saying the same thing over and over again: 4 Let 
me know — never mind what the reason may be — let me 
know it!’ ” 

“Hush, hush, darling!” he said, and leaning against 
the bridge he put his trembling arm round her. “ Don’t 
say that, it may be that — that if you knew, if we knew, 
you might wish your present ignorance back again. Try 
some other remedy; try, Elva, for my sake, to love the 
man who has loved you so long and so faithfully.” 

“ Papa, papa, do you wish it? No — no, 1 can not!” 

4 4 My child, do you know — no, you can not know — how 
much I suffer, and have suffered for you? If 1 could clear 
this up, good God, 1 would, you know it! But as it must 
remain a mystery, will it not be a great comfort to me to 
see you the wife of a man who loves you devotedly? How 
can I die and feel that the child who is so dear to me has 
no one to turn to for comfort, no one to — ” 

44 Please don’t speak like that, papa. You will live a 
long time, and I shall at least feel that if 1 have lost his 


KESTELL OP G KEYSTONE. 349 

love, I have been able to give you more, if that is possi- 
ble.” 

Mr. Kestell shook his head. 

“ I feel that any day I may be — that something may 
happen to me; indeed, Elva, this terrible uncertainty 
about you may hasten the result. To know you happily 
married would — yes, I feel sure would add vears lo mv 
life.” 

“Papa!” 

“ Yes, darling. I do not suppose it even. I am sure of 
it. Your troubles are undermining my health, my peace 
of mind.” 

Elva drew a long breath. How terrible of her father to 
put it thus. He could not know, he could not understand 
what he was asking of her! 

“ But, papa, I do not love him. How can 1 promise to 
do so? Besides — ” and in her heart she cried out : “ Hoel, 
Hoel, only tell me, and then I could judge whether it were 
wicked of me, even for my father's sake, to think of such 
a thing!” 

“ No, dearest; yours is a true, noble nature. 1 do not 
expect you to change easily; but when love is gone there 
are many softer feelings which, on the whole- — who knows? 
— may make us happier than pa sionate love. It is not a 
love-marriage that is always the happiest.” 

“ But yours, papa — look at that!” 

There was a slight contraction of the muscles about his 
m< uth. 

“ Mine has been no common love, certainly.” 

“ I want to be like you — and Walter, papa, he is so 
easily made angry. I am sure we could never agree.” 

“ He loves you, dear; think of that. Will not that 
counterbalance some few infirmities of nature? Are there 
many men who would come forward as he has done, and, 
careless of what is said, at once declare that he loves you, 
and will marry you now at once?” 

Elva drew herself up proudly. 

“ Whatever people say, papa, about us, about me and 
you, is pure gossip; at least Kestell of Greystone's daugh- 
ter has nothing to be ashamed of, except for others. ” 

“ Yes, for others. But, dearest, about Walter — will you 
not listen to my pleading for him?” 

“For yourself, papa. It will be for you — if 1 do it. 


350 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


Only if, if — and yet liovv can I? If I do, you must teach 
me to hate him — Hoel — always. Not now and then, but 
always. As the wife of another, how can 1 have that 
other feeling?/' 

44 As the wife of another, Kestell of Greystone's daugh- 
ter will do her duty," he said, proudly; then suddenly a 
faint blush covered his face. 

“ Will you think of it, dear — for my sake?" 

There was a long pause, and a terrible struggle went on 
in Elva's heart. At last she cried: 

44 For your sake, papa — 1 love you so very much!" 

44 And you will do this for me?" 

There came the clanging sound of a gong across the 
bridge, and both stood upright. 

44 For you?" Elva felt like a hunted animal. She had 
fancied herself so safe, taking care of her father, and now 
he himself was pleading so earnestly against himself. 

44 If you were Walter's wife, you would live here. Yes. 
child, at Rushbrook; we need then never part — till death!" 

44 1 can not decide now," she said, almost angrily. 

44 Then to-night — to-night, my darling, give me your 
answer. Believe me — your, father — when I say that that 
other love is dead — dead! It can never return, and this 
one is a true affection. I know it is a true love; no ob- 
stacle will deter Walter Akister. 1 can understand that 
sort of love; the other was very different." 

44 Yes, yes!" said Elva to herself. 44 Oh, so different! 
He was my love, he might have had faults, but he was 
noble, and great, and brave, and gentle — Iloel, Hoel!" 

Aloud, she could only whisper: 

44 1 can not promise anything, but I will tell you my an- 
swer to-night." 

Amice was gone. Mr. Kestell slowly took that in, and 
she had carried off Symee. What would his wife say? He 
hardly dared ask this question, and feared to go upstairs. 

44 1 will have lunch first with you, dearest," he said to 
Elva, and Elva, forcing herself to eat something, tried not 
to show any feeling before the servants. Yet there was a 
strange hush everywhere. This was at last broken by the 
arrival of a fly containing a trained nurse, a pretty bright 
young woman. 

44 Go and introduce her to your mother, Elva," said Mr. 
Kestell. Elva, glad to get away, did so. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


351 


After a little time the old man nerved himself to follow, 
and, to his surprise, saw a brighter look on his wife’s face. 

“ My dear Josiah, what a comfort to have a pleasanter 
face about me! Symee has given me the blues lately. 
This Ilodson is quite a relief.” 

So, after all his scheming to keep Symee, he discovered 
she was not regretted. When Amice came back she found 
no one spoke a word about her absence, except Elva, who 
clung to her. 

“ Amice, my own sister, when you hear something do 
not think badly of me. It is for papa’s sake.” 

Amice did not understand; her mind was full of what 
she had seen in town. That evening Elva said, as her fa- 
ther’s arm was round her: 

46 Papa, for your sake- I will — for your sake! But tell 
him yourself. I can not!” 


CHAPTER VI. 
symee’s reception. 

Amice was very strong in her determination when once 
her mind was made up. It was almost impossible to turn 
her from her plans, and the strange power this gave her 
was out of all proportion to her gentle appearance. If it 
could be tabulated, we should find that the chief rulers of 
the world were quiet, determined people, who among those 
who do not know pass almost unnoticed. 

She acted at once. She knew not a moment was to 
be lost if Symee was to be carried off, so telling her to pack 
her things. Amice ordered the pony-carriage, gave a short 
explanation to Elva, and then she went to the vicarage to 
see Herbert Heaton. Miss Heaton was more than shocked 
when she heard Amice ask to have a few words alone with 
the vicar. Had she been able to prevent it she would 
have done so, but there was no time. Amice was very shy 
when she had to talk. 

“ I want to tell you, Mr. Heaton, that I am going to 
London with Symee Yicary. Her brother is in trouble, 
and the time has come when she certainly ought to be with 
him ” 

Herbert remembered the former conversation and felt 
guilty. He had indeed called upon Yicary, but he had 
not found him at home, and so he had dropped the idea of 


3 52 KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 

talking to him, vaguely putting it off till the young man 
should come back to Rushbrook. Something in Amice’s 
bearing seemed like a silent rebuke. 

“ Have you got your father’s leave. Miss Amice? 1 
thought — ” 

“No, I am going without; but it is better so. Symee 
has so little power of making up her mind. It is our fault; 
she has never had to rough it. Gold seems to do so much 
harm — oh, so much!” 

Herbert felt that Amice Kestell was certainly not like 
other girls; she was a little peculiar, but good — yes, cer- 
tainly, very good. 

“ What can 1 do for you?” he asked, not knowing what 
she expected of him. 

“ 1 want yeur sanction,” she said, slowly, and looking 
at him very earnestly. “You are a clergyman, you can 
bind and loose, it is your gift. I want you to let me go 
against my father’s wish.” 

Herbert Heaton was a very high-minded man, and be- 
lieved in his orders more than many of his fellow-clergy, 
still, to be asked point-blank to use his power in this 
strange manner was a case he had never considered. 

“ You mean that — 99 

“ That my father is angry with me — very angry — about 
Symee; still it is right, and you ought to be able to tell 
me so.” 

“But the circumstances 1 hardly know — obedience to 
parents is a distinct commandment — very distinct, in 
fact — ” 

Amice lowered her blue eyes from his face; there was no 
help to be had here. 

“ Thank you,” she said; “ I see I must go on my own 
responsibility. Good-bye; I am in a hurry.” 

Miss Heaton little guessed the reason of Amice’s visit. 
She was only very indignant that a young lady should dare 
to ask for a private interview. 

“ Herbert, you will get yourself into difficulties with 
that meek-eyed girl. She is very, very bold. Why, Elva, 
although she has made such a bungle of her affairs, at least 
never asks for private interviews. What was it about?” 

Herbert felt a little ruffled; women were really made to 
be a trial to men, especially to young men who only asked 
to be left alone. 


KESTELL OF GBEYSTONE. 


353 


“ A matter of no consequence.” 

“ That is just what 1 thought. A mere excuse for see- 
ing you alone. ” 

“ .Nonsense,” said Herbert, retreating to his study, 
knowing as he did so that he was running away frrm a 
scolding which would have to be delivered in the future, 
and anticipation always increases the value either good or 
bad of what is expected. 

Amice saw she must rely on herself alone, and without 
further waiting, or even allowing Symee to say good-bye to 
any one but Elva, she drove off to the station. 

Poor Symee! in spite of days of unhappiness, she was 
somewhat like the Israelites, she was fearful of leaving the 
leeks and the melons of Egypt. What was Jesse’s present 
position? She knew he was very poor, and then his letters 
had been so strange that she was afraid. 

“ Miss Amice, you’ll come with me and explain it to 
Jesse, won’t you? He may be angry with me.” 

“ He can not be angry with you. You have some money 
saved, Symee, and that will help you both for a time at 
least, and remember I trust you to write to me for any- 
thing you want. There can be no ceremony between us.” 

“ You have always been good to me, Miss Amice.” 

They did not say much on the way, both had too much 
to think about. 

At last they were on their way to Golden Sparrow Street. 
Jesse was still in that enchanting neighborhood; he had 
only moved down lower in the scale of his society, and had 
a room now in the same house as the inventor, Obed Dig- 
gings. 

Amice had never been so near to London squalor as 
when she and Symee stopped at the address Jesse had 
given. 

The cabman stared a little as he put down the box at the 
poor house, and did not touch his cap when a woman 
opened the door. Symee blushed; it seemed too dreadful 
bringing Miss Amice here, and yet she relied on her to ex- 
plain all the circumstances to Jesse. 

“ Mr. Vi car y is at home,” said the woman, and she 
pointed to a back room as she stared at the lady and at 
Symee’s box. 

Symee went forward and knocked at the door, 

13 


o54 


KESTELL OF GKEV STONE. 


“ Come in,” said Jesse’s voice, and as he looked up he 
saw a sight which made the blood mount to his cheeks. 

“ Symee, what have you come here for?” he said, al- 
most savagely. It was difficult to recognize in him the 
old, kind Jesse Yicary. 

“ Oh, Jesse — Miss Amice, please explain! I have been 
so unhappy!” 

“ I have come up with Symee,” said Amice, simply. 
“ She was fretting herself ill about you; you are in trouble, 
her place is with you. Can she have a room here?” 

Amice cast a glance round the place. It sadly wanted 
a woman’s hand; it was untidy, and very mean-looking; 
squallid was the word best expressing it. 

64 What have you come here for now?” repeated Jesse, 
standing up straight without offering a chair or a hand to 
his visitors. 46 1 did not ask you to come; you might have 
come once, now it is too late. This is no lit place for you. 
Miss Kestell; perhaps you will add to your kindness,” he 
added, with withering scorn in his voice, “by taking my 
sister back with you, unless, indeed — ” 

He was blinded with a tumultuous throng of passionate 
thoughts that surged up like putrid sea-weeds in a high 
tide, and were flung up higher than usual on the scorching 
sand. The beautiful vision of Amice as he had once seen 
her had lost all its power over him; he saw nothing now 
but his daughter, the child of the man he hated, and of 
whose downfall he daily thought. Passion had already 
made terrible havoc in this human being, that concentrated 
meditation on injury had laid a mark as if of bodily disease 
on Jesse Vicary. His eyes had sunk in their sockets, his 
cheeks were deathly pale, he seemed already possessed by 
an evil spirit that allowed him no rest. IN o wonder that 
Symee shrunk a little nearer to Miss Amice. She could 
hardly recognize her brother in this man. Amice alone re- 
mained composed and unmoved. She looked at Jesse 
straight in the face. 

“ You are soured by trouble, Mr. Vicary; you do not 
mean what you say. Symee’s duty is with you now. She 
can come back to us whenever she likes, but at present she 
will, be happier here.” 

“ Happier!” laughed Jesse. “ Symee long ago declined 
poverty.” 


KESTELL OF 0 TJ FT STONE. 355 

44 No, no, Jesse, not that; but I had a dutv to Mr. Kes- 
tell to—” 

44 How dare you mention his name here, Symee? Ke- 
member, if you come to me, your past life is over — over 
forever!” 

Amice herself was moved now. She felt her limbs trem- 
bling beneath her. Was the curse here, too? she had 
fancied that she could heal the sore. Instead of experi- 
encing the power of quiet firmness, a strange feeling came 
over her as she stood before her accuser. How dared she 
presume to lecture Jesse Vicary, when most likely he was 
better than herself, but Symee had interposed with the 
impetuosity which now and then seizes upon timid persons. 

44 Oh, Jesse, how cruel, how unjust you are! What have 
you to sav against Mr. Kestell? We owe him everything 
— you have often said so. It is through your own obsti- 
nacy that you are here. Mr. Kestell offered you a good 
position in Canada, and you would not lake it.” 

44 And therefore he turned me out of the work I could 
do here. Fine generosity!” The blood rushed to Amice’s 
face. 

44 No, no, you can not believe that — you have no proof!” 
she said. 44 You have distorted everything, because you 
are suffering.” 

44 I want no proof, I am certain.” Jesse hardly looked 
at Amice, she felt that he only barely put up with her 
presence. 

The very tone of his voice made Amice certain too; she 
saw it all, though she could not reach the clew. For some 
reason or other Vicary, this man who had done so much, 
who had been so exemplary, had incurred her father’s dis- 
pleasure. But what could she do, or what could she say? 
Nothing. 

Jesse moved uneasily, evidently he wanted Amice to go 
away, and she saw that he did so. 

44 You will be good to Symee,” she faltered. 44 She has 
done for the best. Good-bye, Symee. ” 

Amice wanted to make one more attempt at reconcilia- 
tion, but she dared not. As silently as she could, she took 
a five-pound note and slipped it into Symee’s hand. But 
hatred is lynx-eyed; before Symee coufd say a word, Jesse 
had made one step forward, and seized the paper from her. 

44 Symee, do you not yet understand me? Do you think 


35(5 


KESTELfj OF G KEY STOKE. 


that if you come here it is to spend their money, their ac- 
cursed gold? There, if words are not enough, remember 
actions!” 

He flung the thin paper into the small grate where it 
made a momentary flame. Symee had only time to ex- 
claim b fore Amice, trembling and pale, had opened the 
door and fled. She was brave no longer. 

“ Their accursed gold, their accursed gold!” rang in 
her ears as she hurried away up Golden Sparrow Street, 
unheeding’ of the eyes that followed her or of the interest 
she excited among the neighbors. 

“ He, too — he, too, he knows it. Only we are ignorant — 
only we— we his children, who ought to know!” 

That evening, spent with fatigue and utter misery, Amice 
Kestell was to have another shock. Elva, her own beau- 
tiful sister, the creature whom she loved most, was to be 
made more unhappy than she was already. She was to 
marry Walter Akister. 

“ Amice, don't say a word about it. Papa has begged 
me to consent. It is for his sake only. If it must be, at 
least let it never be spoken of between us.” 

“ Oh, Elva, and even I can not ever save you!” 


CHAPTER VII. 

NEW FRIENDS. 

When Amice was gone, Symee felt as if she were alone 
in a strange and terrible desert land, with no one to help 
her. She had not moved from the chair into which she 
had sunk trembling with fear when Jesse had snatched the 
money from her, but with a kind of hopeless despair she 
cast her eyes round the miserable-looking room. Her 
natural instinct for tidiness, and of liking pretty things, 
made her feel that this was indeed sinking down into 
wretchedness. Oh, what could be the matter with Jesse, 
the brother who had formerly been so kind and gentle! 
She was indeed punished for having left him to live his life 
alone for so long, now he appeared not to care if she were 
or were not there. 

At last she rose, and from habit began putting a few 
things straight. In a corner was her brother's iron chair- 
bed, which was now covered' with books and papers. The 
floor, too, was strewn with papers, some of them written 


KESTELL OE OREYSTOKE. 357 

over, some with only a few words on them, and then torn 
across. 

* 6 Jesse dear, where do you get your dinner? Shall I 
go and see if there is a room I can have? I can pay for it. ” 

Her gentle, pathetic tones presently acted as a compos- 
ing draught on Jesse; it was the sight of Amice that had 
roused him — Amice, and the bank-note. 

Though he was mollified, his voice was still strange and 
hollow, recalling the stonn lie had passed through. 

“ Do you know, Symee, that I ain a ruined man, that I 
can not get work, and that — there, as well out with it — I 
have already been to the pawn-shop? It is wonderful how 
soon a man sinks down!” 

“That is why you are not like yourself, dear Jesse,” 
said Symee, feeling that it was no wonder her brother was 
like this. “ But now I have come, perhaps luck will turn; 
you are so clever, people must find it out sooner or later. ” 

“ Do you think there are not thousands of clever men in 
London who yet have to — to — see their wives starving? 
Happily I have only myself!” 

“ But Mr. Fenner, Jesse, have you been to him? I did 
not tell you because you told me not to mention any of 
their names, but it is all so sad now. Mr. Fenner never 
came back to Rushbrook. They say that Miss Kestell gave 
him up, jilted him, but I know better, he gave her up.” 

Jesse gazed at his sister, and an eager look passed over 
his face. 

“ Ah! is that so? Then that accounts for his being 
away. I thought perhaps they were married, but — but — 
Symee, tell me when it was that he went away?” 

How strange that Jesse, who just now could not bear 
their names mentioned, now asked after them eagerly! 
She explained as well as she could the events of the last 
month. Jesse stood up, and held out his hands to the fire, 
as if to warm himself; in truth, he did not know what he 
was doing. It was the idea of revenge that warmed him. 

“ I am glad, very glad, Symee, about this; the just ret- 
ribution has begun, but only begun.” 

“ Oh, Jesse, how can you say such dreadful things? 
What are you talking about retribution? They have all 
been so unhappy. Mr. Kestell looks ten years older, and 
he looks ill, too; and Miss Elva, my heart grieves for her, 


358 


KESTELL OF OEETSTONF. 


she spends so much time in crying when she thinks no one 
sees her. " 

“ That is why Mr. Fenner is still away; 1 have been to 
ask after him and to get his address, but no one knows it. 
Listen, Symee, it was through me that that wedding was 
broken off . 99 

Symee opened her eyes wide in horror. She began seri- 
ously to believe Jesse was mad. 

“ Through you! Oh, Jesse, what a strange thing to say! 
You don't mean what you say." 

Jesse smiled drearily. 

“ Yes, through me. That's only the beginning, child — 
only the beginning." 

Symee left the subject, it made her feel so miserable to 
see Jesse like this. Had want of occupation driven him out 
of his mind? Then the sooner work of some kind or other 
was procured the better. She even made a suggestion. 

“ Don't you think, dear, instead of hunting for work 
here in this big miserable London, it would be better to 
accept that — that farm? I really wouldn't mind the lone- 
liness. Oh, I would like it — " 

But Symee repented her rashness. 

Jesse almost roughly put his hand on her shoulder. 

“ Listen, Symee. You are my sister, my only relation, 
and I love you dearly in spite of some bitter disappoint- 
ment you made me endure. You have come here of your 
own accord, or urged to do so by Miss Amice Kestell. I 
am willing to share my last penny with you, and you may 
speud your own savings as you like — you earned them 
honestly, I know that, or I should not say this. But if 
ever you mention that man's name to me again, or any- 
thing connected with him, that moment we part. Don't 
argue this matter out. . You can not understand my mo- 
tives, and 1 don't wish } r ou to do so. But as to the truth 
of my words, ask yourself if I have ever deceived you. 
There now, I will see if you can be lodged in this misera- 
ble place. It's the best I can afford, and there are better 
men than I am lodging under this same roof." 

“ It's Obed Diggings' lodgings?" said Symee, uttering 
the first words that came into her mind, for Jesse had 
really frightened her, and she was glad when he went out, 
so that she might collect her scared senses. 

Symee was not brave and hopeful. She did not pretend 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


359 


to herself that she looked forward, even for Jesse’s sake, 
to living in this house; but she could submit patiently, and 
she did so. A room was found for her, and the girl soon 
made the two chambers look, if not home-like, at least 
tidy. She could cook their meals, too, instead of having 
to go to an eating-house, and altogether Jesse felt the 
benefit of having his sister with him; but there was in him 
none of the joy about the realization of his once cherished 
hopes, he was grateful to her, and certainly he was more 
comfortable, but his mind had centered itself on one ob- 
ject, and this, like an evil weed, choked all that came 
near it. 

Revenge seemed written on everything he looked at. 
even, when sick of the thought he wished to turn away 
from it, it followed him, and, like a beast of prey once 
given shelter, it would not be dislodged. Round and round 
like the tread-mill it went, or like an ugly monkey in a 
cage, going sometimes slowly, sometimes quicker, but sel- 
dom stopping. 

Revenge! Revenge! 

But though figuratively you can feed on revenge, the 
daily wants of the natural life must be supplied. Jesse 
had brooded, had planned, had written out ideas, but also 
he had been round to look for work. It was a time when 
work was difficult to get. To throw } r ourself or to be thrown 
out of office work was a very serious event indeed. Al- 
most more serious if the appointment had been of long 
standing, for even with the best of recommendations there 
would come to the guarded mind of the possible employer: 
“ Why, with this excellent character, should the firm have 
dismissed him? There must be something behind this;” 
and the shadowy suspicions had more than once shut the 
doors against Jesse. Every vacant post had a long list of 
applicants waiting for it, and the struggle for life, now felt 
for the first time by Jesse, made him more bitter than he 
was already. 

But he had his literary ability, an ability which to many 
a hopeful youth is going to be the “ open sesame ” of 
glorious hidden treasures. It is only when it becomes a 
matter of hunger, of substantial bread that even the origi- 
nal thinker begins to find out that if the struggle in getting 
employment by writing figures and business letters is great, 
there is but little difference when it is a case of coining 


360 


KESTELL OF UK El STONE. 


gold out of brains — not easy-going, calm, contented brains, 
but fever-haunted, evil-haunted, demon-possessed brains. 

The editor who had taken Hoel Fenner’s place knew 
nothing personally of Vicary, but by hearsay he was the 
man who been ill judged enough to refuse a good position. 
The refusal of an article Jesse sent was courteous, but de- 
cided; evidently the paper in question had not been read, 
and in his present mood Jesse took it as another insult. 
He tried where he was not known, and the results, as usual, 
were slow, and by no means always sure. Between ac- 
ceptance and publishing and payment, Jesse soon learned 
to make no tabulated time-table. 

He had come to a low ebb when Symee appeared, and 
he was conscious of feeling angry because he could no 
longer receive her as he had once hoped. The benefit came 
from her, and this annoyed him, and aggravated the evil 
passion which, like a long pent* in volcano, seemed to en- 
velop the whole fair country of his character in ruin. 

Few things take such an effect upon us as to see what 
had once been green grass, studded with flowers, obliter- 
ated by several inches of hot ashes. It is difficult, almost 
impossible at the time, to remember that in some cases this 
same blotting out may act as manure on the natural soil. 
In every one there has been, or will be, a “ Divine mo- 
ment,” but in every soul, too, there has been, or will be, 
“ the shadow of their lower nature visible to themselves.” 
Only, the jjresence of the Shadow demonstrates the pres- 
ence of Light. It was because of Jesse Vicary’s past striving 
after pure sunshine that he was now so painfully conscious 
of the cold shadow; he fancied the light was absorbed; he 
fancied even that he had never had it. He seemed hardly 
to care whether or not he ever had. To himself, and to 
others, Jesse Vicary was a changed man. This strange 
metamorphosis, this wild, passionate impatience which 
burst forth on the least provocation, was a new revelation 
to poor Symee, and she took refuge with Obed Diggings’ 
daughter. 

On the plea of incessant work, or rather of seeking for 
it, Vicary had absented himself from all his neighbors. 
The poor enthusiastic inventor had been decidedly repressed 
by his old friend; he could not understand it; but he was 
not discouraged, and the advent of Symee reawakened his 
dreams. Here, at all events, was some one who had heard 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


SGI 

as yet nothing of the wonders of the new bouquet-holding 
frame which somehow or other was still in a rudimenlary 
stage, and was not yet bought up by thousands in Oxford 
Street, but the faith that saw these splendid visions was not 
one whit shrunk or of lesser proportions; on the contrary, 
the delay was only in order that the success might be 
greater. And Obed, in debased Saxon, instead of mincing 
French, expressed his belief that 44 il fant reader pour 
mieux sau ter.” 

A few evenings after her arrival, he espied Symee, who 
had now to take her twopence worth of milk, instead of 
viewing the large supply coming from the Home Farm. 
It was like putting a herring straight from the sea into a 
wooden bucket, and Symee was conscious of the unpleas- 
ant sensation of bruising herself constantly against the sides 
of the bucket. 

Golden Sparrow Street was not exactly reticent about 
the affairs of its neighbors, and Svmee’s arrival was 
chronicled with the wealth of detail which belongs to that 
class; at all events, in Mrs. Dunn's lodgings the new arrival 
interested Obed’s sick girl, and gave her fresh food for 
meditation. 

44 Father, just ask her to step in, do now!" said Milly. 
Milly always got her way, so Diggings one evening obeyed. 

46 Well, Miss Vicary, if 1 may make so bold, being as it 
were a friend and a countryman — Greystone was my dwell- 
ing-place, miss — and seeing also your brother has been 
always a good friend to us, if you will step down and visit 
my afflicted child, 1 shall take it as a mark of favor." 

44 Jesse said he was going out this evening; I will come 
down with pleasure;" and so Symee, instead of coiling 
Miss KestelFs dark hair round her head, found herself sit- 
ting by Milly Diggings’ couch, while the great inventor, 
casting a strong odor of tobacco around him, poured forth 
his hopes as he cooled his throat with a pint of beer. 

44 It was a bad day, Miss Yicary, when your brother lost 
his situation; it’s his first mortal trial, and he takes it a 
bit hard, but he shouldn’t do so; he- really shouldn’t. 
What’s an office stool compared to the genius of inventing? 
You shall see my last superb idea; Milly is delighted with 
it; but we must not take her opinion, as naturally she’s 
prejudiced, Miss Symee; a daughter’s praise is hardly worth 
the use of the letters of the alphabet as composes the words. 


362 


KESTELL OE 0 RET STONE. 


but every mortal eye that has beheld it say's, 4 Obed Dig- 
gings, there's no sign of failure here. Work on and per- 
fect it/ and I do. It is nearing perfection; the brass wire 
that attaches the glass tube, Miss Symee, it’s a marvel of 
ingenuity, though I says it as shouldn’t. But you, too, 
will say it is; every one does.” 

The deep-set eyes glowed with a living fire, which com- 
pelled Symee to agree with the speaker, this living faith 
was too powerful for the gild’s weaker nature. 

44 I’m sure it will succeed, Mr. Diggings.” 

44 It will, Miss Symee, it will; and because I think your 
brother is a fine young man with a f.uture before him — yes, 
it is for that — I have offered to associate him with my 
scheme. He doesn’t accejet because he’s generous. He 
wants me to have all the credit, and all the profit. Well, 
I say Jesse Vicary is a noble soul, and I recognize it.” 

44 Jesse is good/’ faltered Symee, feeling at once kindly 
toward the old man. 44 1 wish he would not take this 
trouble so much to heart. I’ve got a little money saved, 
and before that is finished something will turn up — I know 
it will. I can’t understand; it isn’t like Jesse to take 
things hard.” 

44 He wants the divine spark of the inventor,” said 
Obed, striking his hand on the table, and taking a long 
pull at his tankard. 44 Good as he is, I fear he hasn’t got 
that . Miss Symee, believe me, it makes up for many ills. 
When my poor wife had been lying for twelve hours in a 
state of coma, what was it that kept me up? It was 
the divine spark of the inventor. I said, I can’t raise her 
up; may be God Almighty alone can do that, but I can 
raise up something else from here ” (he tapped his rugged 
forehead). 44 1, too, can create. Believe me, miss, it 
was a mighty consolation.” 

44 It must have been,” said Symee, kindly. 44 Perhaps 
not just at the time, but afterward. I never invented any- 
thing, so I don’t know the feeling.” 

44 No, nor does Milly. She took after my wife. It’s not 
given to women, Miss Symee, to be inventors; it’s man as 
has got that. Women they picks up bits, and glue this 
and that together, and feel mighty clever over their mend- 
ings, but .it’s our makings that makes us happy, and differ- 
ent from the wiunenkind. ” 

44 But they — 1 mean your inventions — have never brought 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


363 

you much— money?” asked Symee, knowing that in his 
prosperity Jesse had often helped the inventor. 

44 Money! What is money? No, not money, but fame 
is what oils the heart, Miss Symee. That chariot will be 
in a triumphant procession on which — " (Here Mr. Dig- 
gings a little lost the power of finding his chariot, and left 
it, hiding the retreat by coughing. ) . 44 Miss Symee, money 
is the reward of the poor imitator, of the man who steals 
ideas, steals my ideas. He gets money, money that burns 
his pocket like pure rum that scorches the throat. That's 
where money goes to, but do you think it will always be 
so? No, no, no! Justice comes with a leaden foot, but at 
last — yes, at last she strikes with an iron heel!" 

44 Doesn't father talk beautifully?" said Milly. 44 And 
he really has nearly finished his frame. Sometimes he 
doesn’t always finish his inventions, but this one — oh, fa- 
ther, wait till it’s really finished before you show it to Miss 
Symee." 

44 You and Jesse must come to a feast when that day 
comes, eh, Milly? And you’ll go, my beauty, into the 
country; you shall go to Greystone, where you used to pick 
daisies and buttercups; and youTl have the doctor that 
visits Queen Victoria, our gracious majesty, herself; that 
you shall, and he'll cure you. Doctors don't look where 
the gold comes from. Miss Symee, so that they can see it's 
of the right color; but I foigive them, 1 forgive them, for 
they belong to the great class of inventors." 

44 Do they?" asked Symee. 44 Mr. Kestell said so often 
that Mr. Pink couldn't originate anything new; he always 
said the same thing about wanting sleep and tone." 

44 No, Miss Symee, every few years, as I can see in the 
papers, there's new names given for the same old diseases, 
and 'pon my word the doctors are very clever at making 
of them up. God Almighty was fair at the beginning. 
He made a complete set of diseases, and I dare say Adam 
named them along with the beasts and the things in the 
garden; yes, the diseases are the same, depend upon it, it's 
only that the doctors turns and twists the names about so 
as to make us fancy we have got something strange which 
they can cure. Kestell of Greystone must be an old man 
now. 1 remember him when 1 was a lad, spruce and spry 
he was, but not a rich man at all. It was- all along of 
Westacre Lands, poor Button used to say, that Mr. Kestell 


3(34 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


got rich — that’s how he got the gold; but it was a chance 
such as doesn’t come in the way of inventors. We have 
to get gold by the sweat of our brows as Adam got his 
posies and his corn, may be. We think nothing of luck. 
It’s thought as triumphs in the long run — not a lucky buy- 
ing up of land.” 

44 Did he buy it of Button?” asked Symee, whose heart 
was at Rushbrook, and who cared more for a word about 
Mr. Kestell than all Diggings’ inventions put together. 

44 No, not that. Poor Button’s often showed me and 
Milly the deeds. It was a young gentleman that wanted 
to invest four hundred pounds that bought it. If he had 
lived there would have been a piece of luck for him he 
wouldn’t have expected. The earth hides up a mighty lot 
of money, Miss Symee; locks it up till the right time 
comes, and then she seems to run it up in the market till 
she finds the highest bidder. She’s cute, albeit she’s so 
silent, eh, Milly?” 

There was no chance of Milly getting many words in 
when the inventor was in a mood for speech, but she was 
too much interested in Button’s deeds to allow her father 
all the conversation. 

4 4 Poor Button, father. He’s dead and buried. I won- 
der if they buried the old deeds with him. He said that 
I was to have them when he died, for 1 liked spell- 
ing over the odd words. 4 This indenture witnesseth,’ 
was on one of his bits of paper. If you write to your 
ladies, Miss Symee, I wish you’d ask them whether the 

papers are still at the . Look here, here's Button’s 

own will I made him write: 4 I leave to Milly Diggings my 
title-deeds as are merely copies of no use to any one,’ and 
look, here’s his signature, but father didn’t take the trouble 
to write about them, they was worthless, you know.” 

44 I’ll tell Miss Amice; she’s always so kind that she’ll 
make inquiries,” said Symee, kindly. 

So ended the evening, but Symee felt less lonely, and a 
sense of freedom crept into her heart. 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


3G5 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“a marriage is arranged.” 

Hoel was now really convalescent, but he was still very 
weak. He had sustained slight internal injury from the 
fall from the quay, and that, besides the other danger he 
had passed through from prostration with fever, had laid 
him low. Sickness is often represented as a time for men- 
tal reflection, but oftenest it is passed in a vague round of 
thoughtlessness that takes possession of the brain, and a 
weary and profitless wondering. May was approaching, 
and only now was the once keen-witted Hoel Fenner able 
to lie on a couch in his bedroom, and slowly string a few 
consecutive ideas together. Soeur Marie was still with him, 
and Hoel had quite decided that the Roman Catholic 
Church had done well in producing such an embodiment 
of all that is beautiful and womanly as the Sisters of 
Charity. 

But Hoel had many other thoughts in his mind that, as 
he daily grew stronger, also became more settled and per- 
sistent. 

These thoughts related to Jesse Vicary and to Elva. It 
was no good disguising the fact — he loved Elva now with 
the new love grown of absence, and perhaps too — so con- 
trary is man’s mind — from the very fact that he had cut 
himself off entirely from her. A hundred times a day he 
would say to himself, 46 1 will put this case of conscience 
before Soeur Marie, and she will decide.” But he had not 
done so, and now Soeur Marie no longer sat up at night 
with him, and did not stay all day. Soon the doctor would 
pronounce him fit to return home — home! How ridiculous 
the word sounded — and the delightfully simple remarks of 
this French sister could no longer be listened to. 

“ Vicary would be a good conscience-holder,” he 
thought, 44 but then how can I ever see him again without 
telling him the truth? And how can 1 tell him the truth, 
and bring ruin upon Elva? Elva — good heavens! What 
a fool 1 have been! Why did I run away like that? But 
what is done is done. She despises me, and I can not de- 
fend myself, even though any gentleman would approve 
my conduct. Ah, would there be some adverse opinion? 


30(3 KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 

Are we able to judge any one with a right judgment? Is 
not even common law often administered most unjustly? 

64 If I have been right to myself, have I not deliberately 
chosen to be unjust to Vi car y in order to save myself the 
pain of forcing justice upon another? Hang it all! Is 
there justice anywhere? Don’t we most of us accept in- 
justice with a smiling face? Are not some rulers of society 
monstrously unjust? But custom makes them just. Can 
one pretend to do more than truly keep one’s own hands 
clean? And I have done that. Well, I shall go back to 
London as soon as ever I can travel, and just see what 
turns up. But will Elva — No, I must put away that 
thought.” 

At this moment Auguste, the waiter, came in with 
44 Mister re Eennere’s ” morning paper, and the first thing 
his eye alighted on was, 44 A marriage is arranged between 
the Honorable Walter Akister, only son of Lord Cartmel, 
the well-known astronomer, and Miss Kestell, eldest daugh- 
ter of Mr. Kestell of Greystone. The wedding, we under- 
stand, is to take place early in May, at Rushbrook.” 

Hoel flung the paper away. Had he been strong enough 
he would have stamped upon it. A rage new and alto- 
gether foreign to his nature seized him; more overwhelm- 
ing because he could not blame either AValter Akister nor 
Elva. Blame them — how could he? What must she 
have thought of him? Why, she thought so badly of him 
that she had been able to turn her love into hatred, and 
trample out her sweetest womanhood ! 

Then, after a few minutes, he felt angry with Elva for 
thinking badly of him. To be prepared to marry that 
Walter Akister seemed worse than folly — it was a crime. 
It was like a woman to be inconstant, fickle, shallow, and 
so on through all the usual and. well-worn invectives 
against women, till his common sense reasserted itself, and 
he saw plainly that such conduct as his, unwilling though 
it had been, was enough to quench any woman’s belief in 
any man. Enough, and more than enough. 

Weak as he was, Hoel rose from the couch, and grasping 
the support of the mantel-piece, stood trying to calm him- 
self. He had fancied he had cooled himself into indiffer- 
ence, and that his illness had taken away all mad regrets. 
They had never been mad till now, only now did he appear 


KESTELL OF 0 KEYSTONE. 367 

to realize his loss — only now, when she had hound herself 
to another. 

44 It was because I loved you, Elva, that I did this thing, 
because 1 loved you. Will you not believe it without my 
saying so? How can I destroy your peace of mind, and 
what you hold dear, and yet love you? How could 1 see 
you — No, no, the dream is over, it is over, over, and yet 
would to God it were not!” 

He leaned against the marble, and felt angry with his 
weakness, and angry with the fate that had brought such 
misery upon him, and at that moment Scour Marie en- 
tered with her quiet, peace-suggesting ways that seemed to 
repudiate any stormy human passions. 

44 Monsieur is standing, he has the strength to-day; that 
is because I asked St. Joseph-—” 

4 4 St. Joseph — pshaw! It is because that woman I told 
you of, Soeur Marie, is faithless, and is going to marry an- 
other man.” 

44 You must rejoice greatly, as you told me it was not her 
fault.” 

44 Rejoice! 1 do no such thing. I am very angry. She 
has no business to love twice; besides, I love her more 
than ever, just when 1 had fancied myself cured.” 

44 We ail have to tread the Rue de l’Enfer.” 

44 Tread it — yes, when we have paved it lirst ; but what 
do you think of treading it when one has tried to be an 
honorable man all one’s life? When one has only done but 
what is right, and then the misfortunes of the wicked over- 
take one. The world is a place of injustice!” 

44 Ah, monsieur, it is the intentions we forget. Some of 
our deeds are beautiful, but the intentions beneath are very 
adverse to God. The intention is oftener self than God.” 

44 1 have done my duty for my own sake. Honestly, it 
is a pity that the motive of self-love is not oftener present 
if the result is good.” 

The good little soeur was not going to argue with a man 
so thoroughly out of sorts as Hoel. 

44 You are very good to tell me your trouble,” she said, 
meekly. 

44 No, I did it with a bad purpose,” he said, with half a 
smile. 44 Really, you good people can have no earthly 
peace. Just now my purpose is to get back to England, 
and leave this dreary place. No- offense; but good heavens. 


KESTELL OP GREY STONE. 


368 

(his lias been a weary time. I never realized so fully be- 
fore what I bad gone through. When may I go?” Hoel 
looked quite humble. 

44 Monsieur ie Doeteur will tell us. If monsieur goes 
back to trouble, he will think of us with pleasure some- 
ti mes. ’ ’ 

44 With pleasure? With envy!” 

64 Monsieur must have duties in his country. He will 
have some mistakes to rectify, some love to give back. 
How much happiness the good God allows us to give!” 

44 To give — and very little to receive!” 

44 We can not give without receiving. But monsieur is 
so clever, he knows all this better than I can tell him, it is 
such a simple rule, a result that never disappoints one.” 

44 1 don’t know,” said Hoel, crossly, sinking wearily back 
upon his couch. 44 1 never remember doing anything for 
the simple reason of giving and expecting nothing back. 
Honestly, there are few human beings outside dwellers in 
convents who do that, and then 1 fancy — ” 

44 The convent walls do not make all hearts tender, 
monsieur, it is God, and He can work as well in the world 
as in the cloister. Here is a good thought — He is doing 
good always, all day long, even when we do nothing to 
help Him.” 

44 1 never have done good — Well, perhaps I tried to help 
a young man 1 met, but at last I did him an injury.” 

44 And you will go back and repair it.” 

This was said so simply that Hoel looked up. 

44 If I repair that injury, I shall bring sorrow into an- 
other household.” 

44 God answers such questions, monsieur. We have but 
to go straight on. Ah! but you know all that better than 
I do. It is a rule in earthly things as well as in heavenly 
matters. ” 

44 1 thought I acted honorably,” said Hoel, half to him- 
self. 44 And yet perhaps after all that poor Vicary’s right 
comes first. But does it? And Elva — Ah! now she will 
marry another man, have I not even less right to— Yes, 
that’s it, fool that 1 was! I had everything in my hands, 
and rejected it. And now, now she is taken from me. It 
will soon be no longer my secret to keep or to publish. It 
will be more sacred, and yet — 

44 Look here, Sceur Marie, you are a saint if there is a 


KESTELL OF OBEY STONE. 


369 


reality to that word. Tell me, honestly, with all your lit- 
tle tables of right and wrong composed like a calendar of 
the year, tell me what is right. 

44 Suppose a young man exists who has been wronged, 
grievously wronged, by one who is now on the verge of the 
grave. Suppose— are you listening or tabulating? — sup- 
pose a third person knows this, and that he would, he must 
spare the old man at the expense of the younger man, who 
is hale and strong, and will live many a long year yet. 
Ought not the third person to consider age before youth? 
I have put it plainly.” 

44 Where there is a wrong to be righted, the duty is easy, 
monsieur. Go and right it. It does not take long to say.” 

44 But surely you have lived long enough to know that 
right and wrong are not simple facts. For instance, in 
order to right that young man, the third person must ap- 
pear to behave ungratefully; the old man’s shame will fall 
on his family; the young man is not married and has no 
parents; the old man may be driven into the clutches of 
justice, of public shame in any case, and there must be 
many more complications. Already it has ruined two lives 
— yes, ruined.” 

The sister shook her head. 

44 Things are complicated because we fancy we know 
what will happen. We do not believe that God rules over 
everything. We think we must know results.” 

44 And so we do; put two and two together and the re- 
sult will be four, however much we might desire to see it 
five.” 

44 There will be He who originally put the two and two 
together. There will be five.” 

Hoel shrugged his shoulders. 

44 We can not repair one injury by doing another; see, 
that is simple,” added Soeur Marie. 

Hoel did not answer, but he was not quite so happy in 
his former decision as he had been. Everything had ap- 
peared so plain to him when he fled away from England, 
and now nothing seemed right; he himself was out of his 
own reckoning; and, further, he was tormented lest this 
new idea should have sprung from the shock of reading of 
Elva’s engagement. If he sacrificed her father now, it 
would look like spite. It would perhaps be something 
much like disappointed jealousy. Positively Hoel, who 


370 


KFSTFLL OF OR FT STONE. 


had never had doubts about himself or his otvn course ot 
action, now was tortured by doubt. 

That ridiculously simple Sister of Charity was like a 
single dahlia. Truth was much more like the highly folded 
complex dahlia, its petals were to be so easily reckoned up. 
Right and wrong were abstract terms which only simpletons 
made simple; to right some men was to wrong others, all 
pure chance, a lottery, an uncertain toss-up; and to his 
mind there came back some lines which had before now 
made him smile. 

“ Say the first straggler that boasts purple spots 
Shall join the file, one pincer twisted off; 

Say, this bruised fellow shall receive a worm, 

And two worms he whose nippers end in red: 

As it likes me each time, then I do — so He.” 

Was he going to be like Caliban, after all, and when the 
storm came, was he going to cry, 46 Will not eat this month 
one little mess of whelks, so he may ’scape?" 

No, he could not escape the consequences, at all events, 
that was certain. Elva had changed; how she had been 
able to consent to marry Walter, he could not understand, 
and the fact was torture to him. Still he could not blame 
her; it was too late now to change his course of action; he 
had taken it, believing it to be honorable and the only one 
possible. Why should another way suddenly start into 
view and wind upward clearly in sight, not a smooth and 
pleasant way, perhaps, but not altogether so devoid of 
nobility as he had fancied. 

Behind all this, in spite of that horrid paragraph, 44 A 
marriage is arranged/' came the certainty that Elva was 
his superior, and that now he dared not go to her, and say: 
44 Because of the sin of another I forsook you." He re- 
membered some of her remarks — worse, her novel — the 
book he had so much despised, 44 An IJndine of To-day." 
In that she had struck the key-note of her belief in a per- 
sonal honor, a code greater, more large-minded, more un- 
selfish than he had entertained, and he had then thought it 
absurd. 

To feel utterly at sea with one's self and one’s principles 
is not cheering to low spirits. From the beginning to the 
end Hoel now saw he might have acted differently. Why 
had he not done so? 

By the evening Hoel had worked himself feverish, and 


KESTELL OF OE EY STONE. 


371 


was angry because he was so weak. Sceur Marie only 
smiled quietly. He could have thrown half his books at 
her head. This new impatience was a good sign — an ex- 
traordinary madness, Hoel thought. He despised im- 
patience as womanish and contemptible. 

4 4 Look here, Sceur Marie, I’m going as soon as you get 
that doctor to look in and say I shall not be doing a foolish 
thing. I seem to have made so many mistakes lately — as 
well avoid another.” 

4 4 We will ask him to-morrow. And you have decided to 
go and — undo the wrong thing, monsieur?” 

44 T have decided nothing. I shall see what turns up. 
Nothing really matters now. Hve told you befoie — if not, 
I tell you now — I was a fool — a downright fool. I fancied 
that a woman loved me, and now 1 find Fm the sufferer. 
I love her infinitely more than she can understand; she is 
going to marry another man, while 1 — it’s strange, sister, 
but true — I would not take another in her place for the 
gold of the Indies!” 

44 It is again of your own happiness you are thinking. 
Why not think of her first? That other man will make 
her happy. Be satisfied with that; your great love for her 
is capable of bearing that trial.” 

44 No,” said Hoel, savagely, for his newly developed 
temper w r as, it seemed, in constant request. 44 No, it is 
not capable of this. Pray speak plainly, you quiet saints 
are in no ways chary of the truth. You think me even 
more selfish than I was before.” 

44 One does not become a great scholar without years of 
labor, nor very unselfish without learning; monsieur thinks 
it too easy to learn.” 

44 Easy — easy? 1 don’t think it easy. 1 tell you plainly 
it’s impossible. I can’t be resigned to my — my darling’s 
marrying that conceited coxcomb— No, that is what he 
thinks me; but anyhow, lie’s an unlicked cub. There, 
anything you like!” 

Hoel used the good sister as a safety-valve. 

44 Anyhow, I shall go next week. I may as well attend 
the wedding, and be unselfish,” he added, in bitter irony. 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


372 


CHAPTER IX. 

A VISITOR. 

May-day has had so many lovers, so many fond poets 
and gentle female hearts dedicated to it that it is not for 
the common pen to add to the already unnumbered words 
of praise, especially if truth (which is greater than fiction), 
being told May-day has for some time past wofully misbe- 
haved itself. Once she was a lovely maiden, clad with 
summer draperies, dancing the livelong day, and quite im- 
pervious to catching cold from wet feet, for she had an 
especial liking to green grass, or rather velvet sward, and 
she carried wreathed flowers and had nothing to do except 
to be on the lookout for some “ rustic swain ” who, regard- 
less of losing a day’s wages, could also trip it with her and 
the other maidens of the May; and further, was wondrously 
gifted with the power of improvising verses. Happy, good 
old times, and happier minds that loved the country and 
simplicity, and May-poles, and queens without thrones, and 
kings without gold pieces, and syllabub without indiges- 
tion, and many other charming things which, along with 
warm May days, have disappeared. 

But custom has a strong grip upon us all; we cling to 
the old falsehoods with passionate perseverance, hoping 
against hope that good old times will come back, forgetting 
that when they do, or if they do, our tastes for syllabub 
will be gone, that a day’s wages will seem better than a 
dance round a May-pole. Anyhow, when they come we 
shall then all be able to read: the poor what is written in 
books, and the rich what a too highly civilized society has 
written in their minds. Alas! there are no more May-days 
in store for us! 

Jesse Vicary upon this Mav-day could have remembered, 
had he so wished, days of happy rambles in green woods; 
he could remember, or rather, he could have recalled, had 
he not tried and succeeded in putting such away, great 
thoughts which oftener come in spring days like sap that 
travels to the embryo buds; but for him ail this had been 
swept away. May-day was to be his starting-point; he had 
fixed the date, and there only remained for him to accom- 
plish his revenge. Having turned over many impossible 


KESTELL OF GliEV STONE. 


373 


plans, he had settled on none of them; but he meant sim- 
ply to go and meet Mr. Kestell face to face and — tell him 
the truth. 

He would go and stay at Eushbrook in some poor cot- 
tage, and he would waylay him. He would force an inter- 
view upon him. Whose fault was it he was out of work 
and fast sinking down into hopelessness? Whose, but the 
man who should have been honest enough to own his fault, 
and not act a lie before the respectable world. 

How terribly sad it is, we say, when we see a man 
possessed by the evil spirit of madness, or deprived of sense 
like the driveling idiot; but what are these compared to a 
man possessed with an overwhelming spirit of revenge? 

Jesse had given up praying — how could he say the Lord’s 
Prayer and still entertain the feeling he did? It was the 
sudden downfall of his faith in man that had shattered his 
other belief — for the time, at least. 

May-day in London was gloomy, and the sun struggling 
out through misty clouds produced a feeling of closeness 
without warmth which was oppressive to the spirits. 

Symee had made the small quarters the brother and sis- 
ter could afford look something like home. Slowly but 
surely the girl was beginning to realize that there is some- 
thing better than abundance of creature comforts. “ Man 
shall not live by bread alone ” has a depth of meaning 
which only a few of us realize. Symee, it is true, had 
worked hard enough for her daily bread, but she found 
that, anxious as it was to have to think of every penny, 
disappointing too, as was Jesse’s strange, moody attitude, 
the freedom she experienced compensated for all the creat- 
ure comforts the Kestells had given her. 

How hard she tried to get something to tempt Jesse, 
how she treasured up little amusing sayings of Obed Dig- 
gings to win a smile from him — seldom with success; but 
all this had drawn her out of herself. She could not blame 
Jesse because she was continually blaming herself for not 
having sooner come to him, and now she fancied this was 
her punishment. Trouble had quite altered her brother's 
character, and not knowing the reason, Symee thought: 
“ It is my fault, and this is my punishment.” 

On this May-day, though, Symee had a longing for the 
sight of the country, a longing which country people alone 
can understand. The gentle girl had spent a halfpenny 


<374 


KESTEL-L OF G KEY STONE. 


on a bunch of wild-flowers, and when the breakfast-table 
was ready she triumphantly placed it in the center. 

“ Jesse, look, don't you love wild-flowers?” 

Jesse Yicary looked at the flowers without appearing to 
see them. 

“Ah!” he said, pushing back the hair from his fore- 
head. Then suddenly, “ Symee, do you mind being left 
alone a little while? 1 can't find work, and before look- 
ing about any more, I must go down to Rushbrook.” 

“ To Rushbrook? Oh! mayn't I go, too? Miss Amice 
will let me, I know. ” 

“ No, 5 ' said Jesse, quickly, almost roughly. “ Symee, 
you chose once for all; if you are tired of being with me, 
then go, but don't come back again.” 

The tears started in Symee's eyes. Could this be the 
tender brother she had once thought so gentle and patient? 

“ I will do as you think best, of course, Jesse dear, only 
as you were going — ” 

“ Oh, I shall not be long. You can spend the evenings 
with Milly Diggings. When I come back I must find 
work, or else I had better take to street sweeping.'' He 
laughed a little scornfully. 

“ When are you going, dear? 1 must get your new 
shirt ironed, and — ” 

“ I am going to-day. I don't want to be made smart, 
Symee.” Then, ashamed of himself, as he saw the tears 
fall slowly down Symee's cheeks, he added: “ When I 
come back we'll talk over plans, Symee, and you shall de- 
cide about the future.” 

Symee positively dared not ask any more questions, and, 
wisely, she set about getting Jesse's hand-bag ready. Be- 
fore Symee’s arrival he had never had a woman’s care and 
forethought. It seemed hard that now it had come to 
brighten his lot, he could not enjoy it. 

Every other feeling was burned up. He even did not 
recognize himself. The old Jesse, with his wealth of love 
and poetic fancies, was gone — gone! 

It did not take long to prepare Jesse's hand-bag and 
then to put a few of his papers under lock and key. 
Everything was ready, and he stopped on the threshold as 
Symee timidly brushed his rather threadbare coat. 

“ You must look spruce, dear Jesse, or they — people 


KKSTELL OF GFFYSTONE. 375 

will think T don’t take care of you. Shall you go to the 
farm?” 

44 No; to some cottage, or to the little inn.” 

“ Oh, Jesse, you won’t be very comfortable there. Why 
must you go? Stop here till we can go together.” 

44 Stop here?” Jesse listened to the words, and they 
sounded to him like the far-off voice of a guardian angel, 
but another voice far nearer said: 

64 No, let me get it over now at once; let him own his 
sins and feel some of the misery he would have me feel!” 

44 Good-bye, Syrnee; take great care of yourself till I 
come back.” And without waiting for further leave-tak- 
ing, Jesse was gone, hurrying forward as if he were being 
followed by a host of enemies who wished him harm. And 
yet in truth the only thing which frightened him were 
Symee’s gentle words: 44 Stop here.” 

When Jesse was gone, Syrnee sat down and cried as if 
her heart would break. Life was so very, very sad; the 
brightest dreams had been realized only in mockery; pov- 
erty stared her in the face, for her last gold piece had been 
slipped, unknown to Jesse, into his purse, and he was so 
absent-minded she hoped he would not find out her decep- 
tion. 

The future was a miserable outlook. Even poverty was 
not so bad as Jesse’s altered character. Nothing she did 
pleased him. There was some terrible thought in his mind; 
she knew not what, but it brought him nothing but misery. 

44 But it was my fault. I rejected him when he was so 
anxious for me, so lonely. This is my punishment. IIow 
can I blame him?” 

The days seemed long indeed. She was too miserable to 
go out, or even to go and see Milly in her room below; she 
was making Jesse some new shirts, and at these she 
stitched away as if she could stitch her penitence into 
them. 

It was in this occupation that she was surprised by a vis- 
itor. The knock at the door made her jump, as she said 
44 Come in,” and then her face Hushed all over as she saw 
Mr. Hoel Fenner enter. She felt so terribly ashamed of 
being found in such a poor room, so ashamed that such a 
fine gentleman as Mr. Fenner should see the altered cir- 
cumstances of Jesse, for she knew how much her brother 
had prized Mr. Fenner’s friendly kindness. 


arc 


IvESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


But after the first instant of deep shame, Hoel Fenner’s 
manner surprised her so much that she happily forgot a 
little of her humiliation. In the first place, the man she 
remembered as the embodiment of refinement and health 
looked terribly ill. He was a shadow of his former self, 
and his clothes hung loosely on him as if they belonged to 
some one else. Secondly, Mr. Fenner seemed hardly to 
notice the poverty around him and to be only eager to see 
her, as he at once accepted the chair she offered him. 

“Thank you. I am tired; it is nice to rest. I have 
been ill, and 1 hardly realized what a poor creature I was. 
Miss Vicary. I have had rather a hunt for you. I went 
to your brother’s old lodgings, and there was not even 
’Liza there. Everything has changed. Happily, the 
neighbors at last instructed me. Tell me, when will 
Vicary come in? I can wait, 1 must see him; I have only 
just come to town, and people seem to think I have come 
out of the grave. My lodgings are buried in papers and 
letters that have been waiting months for me.” He did 
not tell Symee that one letter he had not dared to read and 
had put it away unopened. 

Hoel noticed Symee ’s blushes, and her bewildered expres- 
sion, and, with the true instinct of a gentleman, he courte- 
ously gave her time to recover herself. Only now did he 
notice especially the change of well-being in the lodgings 
and the poor surroundings of the place. 

6 ‘ It is very good of you, sir, to come here,” began poor 
Symee, not yet feeling at ease enough to speak naturally. 
“ I am very sorry, but Jesse is not in London. He will be 
sorry to miss you; he went away only this morning.” 

“ Went away— where to?” 

“ To Kushbrook.” 

“ Has he got leave of absence?” 

“ Oh, you don’t know, sir,” said Symee, finding cour- 
age. “ Everything is altered; we shall never be happy 
again. Jesse lost his situation, and — oh, the weary work 
he has had looking for more employment! He can’t find 
any, and it is dreadful to live in this big town and have no 
friends.” Symee positively could not help herself; she 
began to cry. 

Hoel slowly took in the situation. A cold feeling of 
dread and self-reproach crept over him. “ Tt was my 
fault. I left him to that,” lie thought. Aloud, he said: 


KESTELL OF GKEY STONE. 


377 


44 Jesse Vicary without work — it is ridiculous! You don’t 
understand, perhaps, Miss Yicary, but your brother has 
real ability. He is fitted :8or better things than office work. 
Besides, besides — ” 

4fc I shouldn’t mind what work it was so that he could 
get something,” half sobbed Symee, the long kept-in sorrow 
forcing itself to the surface. 44 I believe doing nothing is 
sending him mad. He is quite altered, quite changed. I 
don’t believe even to you he would appear the same man. 
It’s trouble that is sending him off his head.” 

“Vicary is altered. I saw something of the change 
you mean before I left. I was in trouble myself then, or 
else — ” 

The truth, which Symee could not understand, burst 
upon Hoel. Conscience said: “ That is your work, you 
could have prevented this.” What, was Soeur Marie right, 
after all? Was it impossible to right a wrong by another 
deception? 

44 Has Jesse gone to Rushbrook? I must go after him. 
I am going there myself. Miss Vicary, please do not dis- 
tress yourself,” added Hoel, so tenderly that Symee could 
now understand the charm of manner which had attracted 
Jesse. But she was wrong; this tenderness was a new feel- 
ing born of new thoughts. 

44 You don’t know how terrible it is to see Jesse 
changed,” said Symee. Now that the ice was broken, she 
could continue. 64 He does not even care about my hav- 
ing come here to live with him. Miss Amice brought me; 
she is so good even if she isn’t quite like other people. 
She tried to make me see my duty before, but 1 couldn’t, 
and then Jesse refused that farm in Canada, and somehow 
he blames Mr. Kestell. It is so wrong-headed of him. 
Mr. Kestell has always been a good friend to us, but Jesse 
won’t hear reason. He is mad, 1 think. Mad with trouble 
which he has half brought upon himself.” 

Hoel was speechless before this revelation. He had 
never imagined Jesse would have acted thus, and had said 
to himself: 44 He is well off; why disturb him at the ex- 
pense of Elva’s father?” 

44 Why did you say he left his work?” 

44 They sent him away. Business is very bad just now, 
and it was a misfortune that could not be helped, but Jesse 
will think that Mr. Kestell got him turned away. Oh, 


1378 


KESTELL OF GKE V STONE. 


sir, how is it possible? Mr. Kestell got him the situation, 
and especially wanted him to remain there. Of course 
that Canada farm was a special ofTer — just a chance. But 
it’s no use thinking of the past; I suppose in the future 
we shall have the work-house to go to, for Jesse will never 
touch a penny of money that comes from Eushbrook. Oh, 
Mr. Fenner, 1 know Mr. Kestell well — it 1 were ever to 
write a line to him and say we were in want, he would send 
me anything I liked to name. He is the most generous 
man on earth. Don’t you think it is hard on me to know 
that, and yet to have Jesse almost cursing me if I suggest 
it? And this place, too! it’s not fit for Jesse to live in, he 
who is only really happy in the country.” 

Hoel was almost stupefied by the pictures which Symee 
drew so graphically, because so simply. Yes, it was hard 
on her, but not so hard as if she knew the whole truth. 
Ignorance is oftener bliss than we choose to believe. 

Hoel got up and held out his hand, but he was recalled 
to the fact of his silence by seeing the look of surprise on 
poor Symee’s face. 

44 I will try and send you back 3^011 r brother,” he said. 
44 I am going to Eushbrook at once — to-day if I can. You 
know. Miss Vicary, that there have been many sorrows 
connected with Eushbrook even forme.” lie no longer 
felt as if he were the only sufferer now. 

44 Yes; and, oh, sir! have you heard any particulars? 
Jesse won’t let me write to Eushbrook, but I saw it in the 
paper that Miss Elva was going to marry Mr. Akister. I 
can’t believe it.” 

44 Why not?” 

44 Oh, because she took on so—” Symee stopped sud- 
denly. She remembered the evil words that had been 
spoken by the dependents about Mr. Fenner’s sudden dis- 
appearance. 

* 4 When I left?” faltered Hoel, quite humbly. 

44 Yes, sir; but of course you and she had your reasons. 
Miss Elva was very proud. She never uttered a word, but 
1 saw how it altered her. She changed, too, and you 
should have seen how tender Mr. Kestell was to her.” 

44 I hope no one ever blamed her,” sajd Hoel, suddenly 
and with curious energy. 44 She was blameless, entirely, 
Blameless she is now in mirrying Mr. Akister. I was 
a coward, Miss Vicary, a — Well, I shall go and see her 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 379 

married, and then that part of my life's story will be 
ended." 

“ She can’t love Mr. Akister," said Symee, wondering 
what could be the true story of this breaking off, but wom- 
an-like, quite fascinated by this self-accusing man. 


CHAPTER X. 

PUZZLED FRIENDS. 

A wedding in a country place always gives much food 
for conversation. Indeed, the couple about to be wedded 
afford such an endless subject for friendly argument and 
discussion that they deserve the thanks of the small com- 
munities to which they belong for venturing on the un- 
known sea of matrimony. 

The halo of mystery which had settled round Elva’s first 
engagement made the announcement that she was engaged 
to Walter Akister, and that the marriage was to take place 
almost immediately, all the more interesting and worthy 
of full and minute discussion. 

Mrs. Eagle Bennison was at her best, and we might 
almost say, Miss Heaton at her worst; the former because 
love and marriage were subjects she was well informed 
about, and the latter because she was now sure that Her- 
bert meant to marry Amice. She hoped by abusing the 
one sister to show her brother how to avoid the other. 

George Guthrie had made his one attempt to stop Elva, 
and was now impenetrable when questioned by his cousin. 
He was painfully conscious of feeling that something was 
wrong, and yet quite, unable to say what. That Elva was 
throwing away her happiness, he did not doubt, but it was 
not worth while to argue this out with Mrs. Eagle Benni- 
son, especially now that the day was settled and that the 
female tongues were so happy over the “ do-you-think ’’ 
of conjecture. 

The squire’s wife in the fullness of her heart had offered 
Court Garden — and all it contained — to forward the mar- 
riage. It is so easy to be intensely generous when you are 
quite, quite sure your offers will be rejected. It imparts 
the same warm glow to some hearts as deeds of truest 
charity to others; it lifts those up in their own estimation 
in a way nothing else can, and it gives them opportunity 
of bringing into all their future conversation veiled hints 


380 


KESTELL OF OH FT STOKE. 


(half-expressed good deeds have such good effect on our 
hearers) of the noble offers they have made. Beautiful 
charity, shamefaced and modest, so willing to repudiate 
what she yet intends you to accept as fact. 

“ My dear George, yon will be immensely useful to the 
Kestells; my choicest flowers are going down for the wed- 
ding-breakfast; at least I have offered them, but 1 thought 
you would just see, before 1 order them to be cut, whether 
Lord Cartmel had not already sent enough; besides, Mr. 
Kestell can afford to order them from Covent Garden, and 
it does ruin one's greenhouse for the rest of the spring if 
one strips it of flowers at this time." 

George was in his most perverse mood. 

44 I assure you, dear coz, that Lord Cartmel is just now 
most busy calculating the relative weight of oxygen and 
hydrogen in so many square feet; he then means to divide 
one by the other and bring them to something else. There 
is not a chance of his thinking of flowers." 

44 But that stupid Betta, won’t she think of it? How- 
ever, you'll see, George; do your best to save my flowers — 
there's a good fellow!" 

44 Indeed I will. I don't think the bride or the bride- 
groom will care much; Walter x\kister has no more idea of 
admiring the beautiful than a buffalo, and Elva — well, she 
is somewhat distraite , I notice. Is that the right thing for 
a bride to be?" 

44 Ail, yes!" said the good lady, lifting her eyes to the 
ceiling. 44 1 remember — Oh, George! such memories are 
sacred!" 

44 Of course, and except on special occasions never 
brought out, I suppose, from the sacred shrine. Never 
mind me, cousin, if you have the least wish to air these 
memories, I am a bachelor, you know, so I haven't the 
ghost of an idea what nuptial feelings may be. I have the 
logical mensurative faculty which Carlyle despises; you, 
on the contrary, recognize symbolical work; you can see in 
Walter Akister, now that he is about to become the hus- 
band of a fair woman, all the worth which for years has 
been hidden from you and from the rest of the world." 

44 Dear George! You are so funny! Of course, Walter 
will be Lord Cartmel some day, when his father has done 
star-gazing, and then Elva will fill the position of Lady 


KESTREL OP GREY STOKE. 


381 


Oartmel so well. Besides, she ought to be glad to get an- 
other offer so soon after that contretemps.” 

u Humph, yes; delicate affairs are best expressed in 
French. Honestly, I think Elva is throwing herself away 
in spite of the 4 straps, tatters, and tag-rags 5 of nobility 
which she will acquire / 5 

44 Oh, George, what will my- husband' say to hear yon 
talk so? Are you, now, really and truly, are you getting 
at all liberal in your opinions? Because if so John must 
show you that nothing is so bad as believing in the lower 
orders. I took all the trouble of getting up the T. A. P. S. 
so that every one might understand that dear old England 
depends on it’s country gentlemen . 55 

44 IPs a fine country / 5 said George Guthrie, solemnly, 
44 a very fine country is England, and a very' interesting 
people are the English. Duenna cousin, believe me, I am 
not a Radical, I honestly believe in an Englishman — gentle- 
man, I mean — and when I see him standing on his two legs 
with his two five-fingered hands on his hips, and miracu- 
lous head on his shoulders, yes, then I believe he is worth 
from fifty to a hundred — ” 

44 Wedding presents / 5 said Mrs. Eagle Bennison, 
dreamily, who had not been able to follow George 5 s non- 
sense, as she called it. 44 George, instead of talking this 
rubbish, tell me, will a silver cream-jug look shabby to 
give to Elva? I can’t put off giving her something any 
longer. It is a really old silver jug; it came from one of the 
Eagles, and the antique look is much valued just now. It 
feels heavy, too, but the truth is that it has been mended 
with pewter, which adds to the weight, but of course it 
also adds to it 5 s interest, doesn 5 t it ? 55 

44 Not to the interest Elva could get on it, supposing she 
pawned it . 55 

44 Pawn it! How ridiculous you are! Elva, who is as 
rich as Croesus, wishing to pawn anything, is an odd idea! 
But, indeed, I have such a strong feeling that it is waste of 
money to give presents to rich people when the poor live 
all round us . 55 

44 Or die all round us. Yes, certainly, I agree with you. 
I should tell Elva quite plainly that I meant to spend 
twenty pounds on her present, but that I knew she will 
prefer the check going into Herbert Heaton's bags next 


382 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


Sunday, and that she must value the pewter-mended silver 
jug as a memorial of the gift in church.” 

44 No, one could not say all that, for such feelings are, of 
course, quite religious. Yes, I feel it quite a higher call to 
give to the poor.” 

Mrs. Eagle Bennison privately thought she would not 
ask George’s opinion any more, as he gave it too literally. 

44 By the way, George, what has become of Mr. Kestell’s 
proteges? 1 never see either of them now.” 

44 Like other proteges, duenna cousin, they suffer from 
patronage. Only to-day I heard that Jesse Vicary has 
come down to Rushbrook out of work, and that he is stay- 
ing at the Joyces’. Poor old Mrs. Joyce makes quite a fuss 
about the honor. 1 haven’t met him yet. The girl is in 
London. 1 can’t think why she does not come down. 
Benevolence never stands contradiction. If the Taps turned 
against you, what would you do to them, Mrs. Eagle Ben- 
nison?” 

44 1 should of course show them how wrong it is not to 
honor and obey their superiors; but happily that spirit has 
not come here. That young Vicary looked conceited. 
Mr. Kestell was too good to him. He’s very much aged 
lately — Mr. Kestell, I mean — he’s breaking up, I fear. ” 

Mrs. Eagle Bennison shook her head mournfully, though 
she had not one mournful feeling in her heart; but she was 
so used to being like a clock out of order whose hands do 
not point to the right time that she was hardly aware of 
her own inconsistencies. 

44 Elva is marrying to please her father, so he must live 
and see his handiwork. Parents are selfish beings. Well, 
I’m off to see Miss Heaton; they will want to decorate the 
church for the bride’s arrival at the altar of Hymen. Her 
empyrean eyes must look at nothing mean. I can suggest 
your orchids, coz; she must be embowered amid rich foliage 
to hide her tremors and her flutterings. Aurora must have 
her garlands.” 

44 Oh, but I don’t believe High Church people think it 
quite right to decorate for brides,” said Mrs. Eagle Benni- 
son, seizing a long - forgotten plank of safety. “No, 
George, don’t offer my orchids, or if you do, say yon don’t 
suppose they wduld like them.” 

“ Of course,” said George, seizing his hat. 44 You are 
clever to remember Heaton’s point of ritual — 1 had quite 


KESTELL OF G KEYSTONE. 


oSo 


forgotten it. They ought to be printed clearly on cards, 
like the deaf and dumb alphabet. Now, really, I*m off. 
I can't be sure of succeeding about the orchids. Miss 
Heaton is certain to find a saint, black or red, who will 
s rve as a peg for votive flowers; but IT1 try and spare your 
best. However, be generous, dear coz; put yourself in her 
place. What does our poet say: 6 As though a rose should 
shut and be a bud again!* Try the metamorphosis. Re- 
member your time of budding.** 

44 Ah,** said Mrs. Eagle Bennison, smiling and blushing, 
44 what a lovely simile! such a memory as you have, 
George! What poet is it who said that?** 

4 4 Oh, only a chemist*s assistant; most likely he thought 
of rose-water distilling when he wrote it.** 

44 Dear! how very vulgar that sounds. Good-bye, George, 
and don*t forget to save my flowers.** 

George Guthrie went off down the fir-bordered path with 
a smile on his face. He noted the gorgeous red coloring 
on their stems with keen pleasure, and passing a holly- tree 
full of red berries, made a little moral reflection on fruit 
out of date. 

The object of his visit to Miss Heaton had in truth noth- 
ing to do with flowers, but he wished to see how much 
space in the little church could be set apart for the poor 
people. He knew Mr. Heaton might be placed in a diffi- 
cult position if Mrs. Eagle Bennison and Mr. Kestell sent 
large orders for reserved seats so that the aristocratic neigh- 
borhood might see Elva married. As for Lord Cartmel, it 
was with difficulty the important day had been knocked 
into his head. Betta said, gravely, that her father was 
expecting a comet about that time, and it made him a lit- 
tle anxious as to a long absence from The Observatory. 

44 There must be scientific men to be some of all sorts,** 
thought George; 44 but they are a very curious race. If 
Walter had chosen a kitchen-maid, his lordship would have 
had barely time to remonstrate. Well, it*s not my duty. 
At present I*m bound from Tweedledum to Tweedledee.** 
'When he reached the plantation that surrounded St. 
John*s Church and Vicarage, he saw Mr. Heaton opening 
the gate on his way home, and George Guthrie ran up to 
him. (He had a bad habit of running like A boy, and had 
before now been rejnoved for this youthful folly by Mrs. 
Eagle Bennison.) 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


<384 


44 Here, Heaton, wait a moment; the world’s at an end; 
go and call the parson of the parish. Oh, perhaps you 
don't read Fielding, or don't own to it; the 4 F'all of 
Phaeton ’ won't provide a text, will it?" 

Herbert laughed. It did one good to see these two men 
together; they had nothing to hide from the world or from 
each other. 

44 1 have just been discoursing with Mr. Kestell's gar- 
dener about the floral arrangements for our little church 
on Thursday." 

44 1 thought so— said so to my dear cousin. Of course 
you've found it to be a black letter saint's day, and that 
makes flowers permissible." 

Herbert smiled. 

44 Has Mrs. Eagle Bennison offered her flowers? Spare 
her, Guthrie, I know the sacrifice is too great. Miss Kes- 
tell had sent word she will have none; but the gardener 
says differently, so I must let them do as they like best, 1 
suppose. To my mind, this wedding is a sad business. I 
have had it much on my mind, yet what could I do? Miss 
Kestell will see no one — my sister was refused; and when I 
called she begged me to excuse her. Come in, will you? 
I can show you her note." 

George's face fell considerably. 

44 A sad business. I call it a confounded shame. If 1 
could get hold of that — No, I'll spare your cloth, Heaton; 
but Hoel Fenner deserves the gallows." 

44 The affair is a mystery; for my part, I can not accuse 
him without knowing particulars — I know none. I only 
listen to those my sister invents. Ladies are apt to grow 
eloquent on such a subject. But have you noticed, Guthrie, 
that the person whose duty it is to speak out strongly lias 
never said a word. Mr. Kestell only once remarked to me 
that Mr. Fenner was quite unable to appreciate his daugh- 
ter's worth. When I saw them together I certainly thought 
the contrary." 

George shook his head, and at this moment Miss Heaton 
appeared and anxiously exclaimed: 

44 Oh, there you are, Herbert! How late you are! I 
knew you would be! Indeed, Mr. Guthrie, when Herbert 
goes to Rushbrook House there- is no knowing when lie 
will return." 

44 You must expect such troubles, Miss Heaton," an- 


KESTELT, OE GREYSTONE. 885 

swered George, wickedly, for he understood the severe 
lady’s innuendoes. 44 He has been talking of love and 
marriage. You should have sent me. You remember 
Doctor Johnson’s answer to the lady who asked him what 
love was? 6 The wisdom of the fool and the folly of the 
wise.’ I came now to plead for free seats for the rag-tag 
and bob-tail, Heaton. You should hear how the poor folk 
talk of the wedding; and, unfortunately, as the church is 
small, many will have to disappoint their eyes.” 

44 I do not allow them to gossip to me about things that 
do not concern them,” said Miss Heaton, severely. 44 The 
poor are abominably curious; they will go to any sight, 
and are quite indifferent whether it is a wedding or an in- 
quest on a murdered man. I believe they prefer the 
latter.” 

44 In this innocent pastoral district I am afraid we can’t 
provide that; so. Miss Heaton, be merciful and wink at the 
weakness of the unwashed portion of the parish.” 

44 It is all very well for a free lance like you, Mr. Guthrie, 
but they look to me for an example. ” 

44 ’Tis indeed a post of observation, Miss Heaton; I do 
sincerely sympathize with you; were I in your place I fear 
I should commit suicide; to be forced to think always of 
my character and reputation would — but no, I will not 
praise you. I will remember Bishop Beveridge — pray, 
Heaton, note that I am impartial in my quotations, and 
range from Fielding to Beveridge — the worthy prelate, 
said : 4 1 resolve never to speak of a man’s virtues before 
his face, nor of his faults behind his back.’ By the way, if 
he did the opposite 1 should have bidden him good-morn- 
ing, and said au revoir till we meet in a happier clime.” 

44 Incorrigible!” laughed the vicar; 44 but if you can 
come down to common sense, tell me whether you have 
heard of Jesse Vicary’s being about? I met him just now; 
and really 1 should hardly have known him. He avoided 
me, so I could not get speech with him.” 

44 Out of work, I gather, and seems to think Mr. Kestell 
has something to do with it. The truth is, the poor fellow 
is rather proud. He’s learning experience, which, by the 
way, I always find a great waste of time, for like the stern 
lights of a ship it only lights up what’s behind.” 

44 1 must go now, Mr. Guthrie,” said Miss Heaton, who 
looked upon him with barely disguised scorn. 44 There is 

13 


m 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


to be a procession of school children on the wedding-day. 
I should like them to sing a hymn when the bride appears 
at the beginning of the plantation.” 

“ Little dears! how they will wake the echoes with their 
sweet trebles! Do you remember. Miss Heaton, the diffi- 
culty a certain bishop was in how best to open the con- 
versation with Johnson, so chancing to look at a few trees 
which stood close by he remarked that they grew very 
large and strong. 4 Sir/ said the doctor, 4 they have noth- 
ing else to do/ Our school children can le&rn several 
hymns for the procession and the recession. Tha/s right, 
isn’t it, Heaton?” 

Miss Heaton wanted to say: 44 What a foolish anecdote!” 
but she was not quite sure if Mr. Guthrie were laughing at 
her, so she retired with dignity, saying quietly she had 
never heard that story before, and it did not seem to have 
much point. 

Herbert could not hide his amusement; but as they 
walked out of the lane his real anxiety soon made him turn 
once more to the subject on his mind. TJnlike his sister, 
he knew that below all the fun and foolishness of the out- 
side man, George Guthrie had a very true heart. 

44 I maybe somewhat foolish, Guthrie,” he said, 44 but 
I dislike reading the marriage service when I feel 4 To love, 
honor, obey 9 means little or nothing.” 

44 1 have given up scruples because the more one thinks 
of it the more it seems to me that civilized society is a 
sham. I never should have thought that old Kestell was mer- 
cenary; and as to Elva — no, I’m sure she is not — but there 
is some powerful motive at work which baffles me. Mrs. 
Kestell rules them all; perhaps she fancies that her daugh- 
ter, having been mixed up with an unfortunate affair, had 
better accept the very next good offer; but, good gracious! 
if any one can afford to wait, it is an heiress. Of course, 
after a certain age and faute de mieux she could adver- 
tise. ” 

44 There is nothing pleasant about this engagement. 
Miss Amice answers all the letters about wedding presents; 
and if she were a nun Miss Kestell could not live a more 
secluded life. How am I to — But look, Guthrie, who is 
that man walking up toward the Beacon? If you were to 
ask me I should say — Who would you say it was like?” 

George Guthrie glanced up quickly. He was a little 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOHE. 


387 


short-sighted, but the same thought at once presented 
itself to him. The man they gazed at was walking very 
quickly toward the solitary cottage of the Joyces, which 
stood high on the slope of the Beacon. 

“By George, Heaton! I should say it was Hoel Fen- 
ner. " 

“ So should I; but it hardly seems to be the right mo- 
ment for his appearance.' 7 

“And the wedding the day after to-morrow! I call it 
an unseeriily thing to do. If you'll excuse me, Heaton, 
I'll go and find him." 

“ No, no; wait till we are sure; besides, what can you 
say?" 

George Guthrie laughed. 

“ Thank you. Of course, for a moment 1 forgot my prin- 
ciple of Ictissei' faire . Perhaps his appearance is another 
sign of the goodness of Providence. I)o you remember the 
itinerant preacher’s remark: 4 My friends, it is another 
instance of the goodness of Providence that large rivers 
always flow by large towns '?" 

Herbert Heaton smiled, but added: 

“ Guthrie, I can not understand my own feelings, but I 
have a presentiment of evil — a strong presentiment. I 
beseech you weigh your words if you meet Hoel Fenner." 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE EYE OF THE WEDDIHG. 

No wonder that outsiders were puzzled by the unusual 
apathy that reigned at Rushbrook House with reference to 
Elva Kestell's marriage with Walter Akister. Ever since 
the day when she had consented, she had never, except to 
go to church, set foot outside the grounds of Rushbrook, 
and she had allowed no one to mention her marriage to 
her but Amice and her mother. From her mother, indeed, 
she tried to hide her motives, but with Amice she could 
not succeed; then she had decidedly and sternly forbidden 
the subject to be again mentioned between them. 

Walter had come down to Rushbrook, summoned there 
by a letter from Mr. Kestell. He had found the old man 
kindness itself; settlements were soon agreed upon, and 
the pale, benevolent face of Mr. Kestell was lighted up 
with true joy when he said; 


388 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


46 Akister, my dear fellow, I see that yours is indeed 
true, disinterested love. I believe you would marry Elva 
even if she were poor.” 

4 4 1 would,” said Walter, decidedly. 44 1 shall have 
enough for both; if ” — he was suddenly fired with the idea 
that Kestell of Greystone might after all not be the rich 
man he was supposed to be, that it was for this reason that 
mean scoundrel had made oft — 44 if, Mr. Kestell, you have 
the least reason for not wishing to settle anything on your 
daughter at this moment, please say so. I shall not mind 
in the least, neither will my father. Elva and I can wait 
till we are older to enjoy riches. We want so little for 
ourselves — and she loves you, I know, better than herself.” 

Mr. Kestell was at his knee-hole table, and he lifted his 
pale-blue eyes to the lover’s face. There was nothing pre- 
possessing in the young man’s appearance — the habitual 
scowl even seemed more pronounced than usual — but in 
his words there was much that was honest and noble. 
Even now the old man paused. Was this another door 
opened to him? one more chance of escaping from the 
haunting thoughts that were slowly killing him? or so it 
seemed to him. Here was one who loved Elva enough to 
send everything to the winds for her sake. Everything — 
even honor? Ah, if he could be sure of that — if he was 
certain that — No, he could not be sure; so he rose and 
grasped Walter’s hand with his more than accustomed 
fervor, and said: 

44 Walter, your words prove you to be all I could wish. 
As to money, we will leave your lawyer to settle that. I — 
I will settle any sum in reason he likes to name on her. 
But let the wedding be soon, very soon, for I am far from 
well, and mortals must not trifle with time. ” 

fc4 Soon! Mr. Kestell, I would it were to-morrow; but I 
must let Elva decide. You know she wrote to me — per- 
haps I might see her now for a few minutes. Otherwise I 
shall respect her wishes; she wishes to be left to herself till 
our wedding-day. It is all nonsense about getting well ac- 
quainted, we have known each other from childhood.” 

44 You are very generous, Walter; it is not every man 
who would respect her wishes.” 

44 What care I?” he muttered. 44 When she is my wife 
she must love me — must put up with me at least.” 

Mr. Kestell led the way to the morning-room: he knew 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 380 

Elva was there; he opened the door with a trembling hand 
and called out: 

“ Elva, dearest, here is Walter.” 

Elva rose and came forward. Her father was gone and 
had shut the door before Walter hastily approached her. 
She held out her hand, but she would not let him kiss her. 

“ 1 told papa I would see you now, to-day, Walter; and 
then you know what 1 said in my note.” 

“ Yes,” he answered, sullenly. 

“ 1 want to be quite sure you understand. I want to say 
it now, and then we need never mention it again — never!” 

“ As you like,” he said, with a gleam of intense passion 
in his eyes, though his words were cold like hers. 

“ You have heard that my happiness was wrecked. For 
some reason, which I do not know, the man I loved broke 
off our engagement. I have never seen him again. Papa 
tells me I never shall. I can not see how it can be possi- 
ble; but I do love him still. I believe I told you so, Wal- 
ter, and I shall never love another as I loved him. 1 do 
not love you, but I am touched that you should care for 
some one who is — who — Well, as for me, I am marrying 
you because papa wishes it intensely, and I love him better 
than any one else in the world now. I am not deceiving 
you, Walter; never reproach me with that.” 

“ I never will; you are not deceiving me.” 

“ Won’t you reconsider your wish? Think, Walter, how 
much happier you would be if — if your wife loved you.” 

“ I shall look after my own happiness,” he said, biting 
his lips to keep in stronger expressions. 

“ Ivernember that when 1 am your wife I shall know how 
to make people respect you; but that I shah never pretend 
to more; and — and — Oh, Walter! won’t you think bet- 
ter of it again? Won’t you give me up now, now before 
it is too late?” 

66 By God, I won’t!” he said, fiercely. “ Do you think 
that, now 1 have proved to you the falseness of that man, 
now that you see how utterly unworthy he was to marry 
you, do you imagine that now 1 shall give you up? Why 
didn’t you say yes ’ when 1 first asked you? Why did you 
let me go through that other time?” 

The ill-restrained force of the unchecked nature might 
have attracted some women. Elva only shrunk from it as 
she would have done had she seen molten iron issuing from 


390 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


the imprisoning furnace: to her mind love was not to be 
thus desecrated, for it was too beautiful a thing to be sul- 
lied with rude passion. She shrunk away a little further 
from him. 

46 1 have suffered a great deal,” she said, with the quiet- 
ness of despair. 44 1 can hardly bear any more- Good-bye 
now, till — that day. Remember, if — if you ever feel any 
doubt, say so, and 1 shall understand; I can face what peo- 
ple will say now,” she added, with a smile so utterly sad 
that Walter turned away. 

44 You need not fear that I shall throw you over,” he 
said, taking her hand and grasping it. 44 What do I care 
for the gossip of idle women? Some women's tongues are 
full of envy; some of them think you are a jilt, and if you 
were 1 would still marry you, Elva. ” 

She motioned him away. This personal possession which 
he seemed alone to care for not only frightened her but re- 
pelled her; she experienced the feeling that if he stayed 
much longer in the room she would fling all her previous 
reasoning to the winds and tell her father she could not 
accomplish the sacrifice she was making for him. Why 
was he so very, very anxious to see her married? Why was 
she not a Roman Catholic that she might fly to a convent 
and rest? Why was her love for her father so great that for 
his sake she had done this thing?” 

44 Please go now, Walter,” she said. 

Walter had a momentary impulse to disobey liei ; but she 
was going to be his own so soon, why not humor her for a 
little while longer? Women were like that — so fickle and 
uncertain. 

44 W r e shall have time enough to talk during our honey- 
moon,” he said, sullenly, and then he walked away with- 
out once looking back. 

Left alone, Elva remained plunged in dumb misery. 
She did not feel as if she were the same Elva as she had 
been; she was some one else; she was speaking, walking, 
acting in a dream — a hideous dream. The daily events now 
made no impression on her mind; the last thing she dis- 
tinctly remembered was telling her father she would do as 
he wished — she would marry Walter. Constantly she 
seemed mentally to be going to her father and saying the 
same thing: 44 Papa, for your sake 1 will — for your sake.” 

If now and then she struggled into new consciousness it 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


891 


was merely to experience a feeling of such fear and dread 
at what she was going to do that she had at once to seek 
out Amice or her mother and begin talking on indifferent 
matters. This, of course, always turned on the wedding 
preparations. Mrs. Kestell once more began throwing 
herself into the preparations, only remarking: 

“ 1 hope, Elva, this time there will be no more jilting. 
I shall never show my face again in the neighborhood if 
you throw over another lover. As it is, 1 see Mrs. Eagle 
Bennison looks upon you as a very badly brought-up youug 
lady. Then the Fitzgeralds, all their long letters of sorrow 
make me see well enough how rejoiced they are that after 
all one of you will not be first married. Louisa has en- 
gaged herself to that decrepid Hungarian count so that she 
may be married first and be called countess. I have told 
your aunt that as the Honorable Mrs. Akister you will 
hold a better position in society than any foreigner can 
hope to fill. ” 

No. Elva made no illusions to herself. This time she 
was tied and bound to be married to Walter Akister, a 
man she had once despised and laughed at, but whom she 
was now beginning to fear. 

She took no trouble with her trousseau , indeed, most of 
it lay ready prepared for female admiration. Wedding 
presents came a little fitfully, as if to remind Elva that she 
was said to have jilted her last lover, or, at all events, had 
given no rightful explanation of her change of purpose. 

Amice answered the notes; that was the only thing she 
could do, having now accepted the doom. To see Elva 
suffer w r as far harder than suffering herself; but what 
could she do as the days passed by so quickly and that 
every hour brought them nearer to the wedding-day. 

Mr. Kestell was the one decidedly cheerful member of 
the family. Elva did not notice that his cheerfulness w r as 
forced. She accepted his verdict that her marriage w r as 
going to cure him of his sleeplessness and of all his 4 ail- 
ments, so she forced herself to smile and to appear cheerful 
as she sat with him in his study while he talked to her of 
his boyhood and of his parents, whom Elva had never 
known. The past was a relief to them both; for the time 
being it almost blotted out the present. 

But Elva could be obstinate about some things. Not 
even her father’s gentle remonstrance could make her wear 


392 


KESTELL OF (rftEYSTOHE. 


Walter’s engagement-ring of diamonds, nor would she go 
arid pay visits to rich or poor. She sauntered in the gar- 
den on her father’s arm, but nothing more; neither would 
she see any one who called. To Mr. Kestell she said: 

“Papa, I want to give you every minute of my last 
home days,” but to herself she repeated: 

“ I know they are curious about my feelings; they want 
to probe my motives, but they shall not. That pain I need 
not have, for how can 1 be sure that I should not say right 
out how much I dislike marrying Walter, and that it is 
simply for papa’s sake. Will Hoel see the announcement? 
What will he think? Why did he not come to me? Hoel! 
Hoel! my only love! What did I do to displease you? 
Oh, God! God! give me pride enough to do my duty; only 
that, only that 1 ask!” 

And so the day drew very near. Only two days now. It 
was Tuesday, and the wedding was to be at half past two 
o’clock on Thursday. Elva had begged for that hour in 
order to avoid the wedding-breakfast. Rushbrook House 
was to be thrown open, and a general squash and tea-party 
were to announce that Miss Kestell of Rushbrook House 
had been united to Lord Cartmel’s only son. 

Mrs. Kestell’s delicate state of health was excuse enough 
for avoiding a breakfast, and the tea was to consist of every 
choice fruit and every possible hospitality to make up for 
the disappointment of speeches. 

Happily when money is of no consideration trouble is 
much minimized; and Amice, who wrote all the notes, was 
the only one of the family who felt the burden of the ap- 
proaching wedding. 

Amice was in a strange state just then. Elva was too 
much occupied with her own burden of sorrow to notice 
this as she otherwise would have done; all her actions 
seemed mechanical. She was always at work, but it was 
because she made almost superhuman efforts not to give 
way. * Formerly she had leaned on Elva, now she knew she 
must keep up: formerly she could have retired to her room 
and on her knees she would have prayed that the curse might 
pass away, now she had to write notes, she had to inter- 
view tradespeople, dress-makers, she had to go out to the 
cottages and help Miss Heaton about the clothing of the 
regiment of maidens who were to line the church-yard path 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 393 

as Elva walked up, and were to strew white flowers for the 
bride to step on. 

And Amice did all this; but all the time she was con- 
scious that this busy, active Amice was not the real one. 
Her true self was a far different person. A girl who felt 
that she was under a mysterious power of which she could 
not explain the nature; she seemed to see, oh, so terribly 
clearly, just as if it were revealed to her, every pang that 
Elva experienced and which made her miserable; she could 
divine her sister's shrinking from her self-imposed task, 
and from this she could easily deduce the future misery of 
the being she loved most on earth. 

46 And yet," thought Amice, “ I warned her long ago 
against Walter Akister, and she did not understand me; I 
did not understand it myself. God sends me these warn- 
ings as a punishment, for they are useless, useless — utterly 
useless! And that other warning — oh, what is it — what 
is it?'" 

Amice put her hand over her burning eyes as if she would 
force back the new image. Image? No, it was not that ex- 
actly, it was as if her eyeballs were burning in their sockets, 
as if the great pain this caused her spread a misty veil of 
led over everything she looked at, as if this red color sick- 
ened her and caused her to long intensely to rush away out 
of the house. But when she did so the pain and dim red 
mist followed her, the air came like hot wind out a furnace 
upon her forehead. The sickening thought that she was 
losing her mind would present itself to her, and yet she 
could, go through all the daily duties with perfect clear- 
sightedness, without a mistake. Only in prayer could 
Amice find relief, and time for prayer is not easy to get 
when the hours before the wedding could now be counted. 

But one whole day before *she should lose her sister! 
The realization of this swept like a bitter destructive wave 
over Amice. Only now she seemed to understand that she 
had done nothing to save Elva, but that she had accepted 
the decision calmly. Yet how to act when the whole heart 
is sick and when the brain appears about to pass over the 
narrow border which divides sanity and insanity. Amice 
fancied the air was oppressive, she fancied that it was not 
her own fault that she could not breathe when all around 
was bathed in that dull red color. Did it appear so to 
every one else, or was it only to her — to her that the curse 


394 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


had come? Or were these the signs of some illness that 
was about to attack her? 

Should she ask Elva’s advice? No; it would be cruel; 
she must bear it alone; it was braver not to burden others 
with her fears, especially Elva, who was in such sore trouble 
already. Life was, after all, not such a simple thing as it 
had appeared to her and Elva when as children they wan- 
dered over their beloved heathy hills. No, life was a net- 
work of fearful responsibilities, the skeins of which were 
always becoming entangled, and those who tried to unwind 
the tangles only made matters worse. 

Suddenly Amice started up; she had forgotten where she 
was till Jones’ matter-of-fact voice recalled her with his 
deep-toned “ Dinner is on the table.” 

It was their last dinner together as a family. Amice 
remembered this now, and knew she had been dreaming ail 
this. But was it dreaming or reality? Behind the curtain 
on the low window-seat Elva, in a black dress which strong- 
ly brought the paleness of her face, had been sitting at her 
father’s feet with her hand in his, while Mrs. Kestell 
knitted and spoke now and then about her new nurse who 
had captivated her by much sympathy with supposed ail- 
ments. 

Amice knew she was certainly quite awake now, even 
though the dull red color remained. 

4 6 Our darling’s last dinner,” said Mr. Kestell. “ Dear- 
est, you will come in, won’t you?” he added, turning to 
his wife. 

“ Yes; Amice, give me your arm. It is fortunate that 
you are not going to be married. Josiah, go on with* Elva 
and let me see how well she can take a position as lady of 
the house.” 

“ The Honorable Mrs. Aldster,” said Mr. Kestell, play- 
fully, excitedly almost. 4fc I am sure the array of presents 
in the big library is enough to furnish a palace. You will 
quite change the character of The Observatory. We shall 
have fine doings this summer.” 

” You must come and see me every day, papa, or else I 
shall come here. Both, I expect.” 

Before Jones and the footman the conversation was 
chiefly about presents. Elva had wonderful power over 
herself; she was like a man going to execution: the last 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOKE. 395 

pride left to her was to show no white feather before the 
callous and heartless crowd. 

After dinner Mrs. Kestell retired to her room and Amice 
went with her, but she was soon dismissed in favor of the 
new treasure. Where should she go? The oppression of 
every room increased; however, Eiva might want her, so 
she ran down again to the drawing-room where her sister 
had been singing a favorite song to Mr. Kestell. Seeing . 
Amice, she rose and went to meet her, and drawing her! 
gently to her father, said, softly, with a voice full of tears 
and yet that struggled against emotion : 

“Papa, I leave you Amice; you will soon find out how 
much better she is than I am.” 

Amice’s large blue eyes dilated as Mr. Kestell raised his 
to them; every nerve in her body seemed to stiffen, her 
voice refused to speak, an overpowering breathlessness took 
possession of her, and the dull red haze blotted out her 
father’s face. She wrenched her hand away from Elva’s 
arm. 

“ Let me go, dear, let me go; I don’t feel well. I must 
have some air; don’t come with me, don’t follow me; stay 
with papa.” 

Then she escaped. She shut the drawing-room door as 
if she feared pursuit; she snatched a hat and shawl as she 
crossed the hall, then opening the front door she hurried 
out. She must get air, air; she must get away from herself 
and from that . 

Down the drive and across the road and on to the bridge, 
and there in another moment she stood face to face with 
Jesse Vicary. 

That brought her back to mundane thoughts when 
straight and gaunt he stood before her. His broad shoul- 
ders, mysteriously outlined in the half light — for it was still 
light — looked powerful; his very demeanor was new and 
strange, as indeed was his voice when he spoke. 

“ Miss Kestell, may I see your father, or, rather, to do 
away with shams, I must see him.” 

His tone of authority displeased Amice. 

“You have chosen badly. It is my sister’s last evening 
at home. To-morrow is her wedding-day.” 

“ Excuse me, I waited till to-day to come.” 

Again Amice felt that she was the culprit. 

“ Do you want me to announce you?” 


396 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOXE* 


44 1 don’t care. 1 must see Mr. Kestell.” 

44 Come, then, you will. find out for yourself that he can 
not see you . 9 9 

44 The time of can not is past; now it is must,” he mut- 
tered half to himself as he followed her. 


CHAPTER XII. 

REALLY IX LOYE. 

Hoel Fexxer had not dared go and lodge nearer to 
Rushbrook than Greystone, neither here even had he found 
the courage to go to the hotel where he had put up on a 
previous occasion. First, because the associations con- 
nected with it were of too painful a character, and second- 
ly because he was afraid of being recognized. He had 
chosen a quiet lodging where the good woman who kept it 
was, happily for him, a new-comer, and had never heard 
any gossip about Miss Kestell. 

His intention was to find Jesse Vicary. His conscience 
now told him he owed it to this man to give him all the 
information he had unfortunately found out. 

He set off to Rushbrook therefore with the full deter- 
mination of at once making a clean breast of it, but before 
he reached the well-known place Hoel was thinking only 
of Elva. Every new scene of beauty that unfolded itself 
before him this May morning brought back painfully the 
thought of what he had lost. It was more than painful- — 
it was maddening. 

44 My own folly, my own cursed hypocrisy. I fancied 
myself better than others, and, as that good, mild-hearted 
Sceur Marie said, in judging others I injured them. I 
thought him a scoundrel, and now 1 can not be sure that I 
did not act the part of one myself. Not sure? Yes, 1 am 
sure, but what is the use of accusing myself? It is too late, 
too late! She has long ago written me down a rascal, and 
it will not be Walter Akister who will undeceive her. Very 
soon she will be his, out of my reach forever!” His 
clinched hand and the perspiration that started from his 
pale forehead proved well enough his mental sufferings. 

44 I must see her again if only once more; yes, even if it 
is on her wedding-day — I must.” 

The longing to see her face was like the longing of a 
man who is dying of thirst for cold water. 44 Will she look 


RESTELL OP GREYSTOHE. 


89? 


changed? Will she bear any trace of suffering?” He paused 
as he set his weary feet on the heather now still wet with 
dew. Hoel Fenner was by no means the strong, energetic 
man he had once been; the French doctor had told him 
plainly he might feel the effects of that cruel immersion 
all his life, and that he would always, or for a long time, 
have to take care of himself. Already Hoel had found 
that after walking a few miles he was much spent, and 
bodily weakness more than anything else inclines one to 
humility of spirit. 

The great lonely heath was the same as when he had 
wooed and won Elva Kestell, but to him all appeared 
changed. The gray clouds swept slowly above him, only 
occasionally allowing a peep of blue to be seen; there 
seemed to be a feeling of sorrow in Nature which Hoel 
thought did not alone mean the echo of his own thoughts. 
Was the strong-minded Hoel becoming superstitious? 

Having reflected on Jesse’s probable movements, he de- 
cided that he would certainly not go to the Home Farm; 
perhaps he would lodge with the Joyces, and if not, they 
would know of his whereabouts. Most likely Vicary had 
come in despair of better sources of information to make 
inquiries of the forest villagers about his parents. 

k4 He will not find the clew,” thought Hoel; 44 but it is 
better he should try than — No, what am I saying? I 
wish to spare her again, and I must not; but at least I will 
do all I can to soften the blow. Elva, Elva, you have 
conquered. I love you still!” 

By the time the Joyces’ cottage was in sight, Hoel was 
very pale and weary, so much so, indeed, that he was glad 
to hear when he reached the cottage that Mr. Vicary was 
sleeping there for a few nights, but that he spent all his 
day wandering about the country, and was not likely to be 
in soon. 

44 If you want him, sir,” said the old woman, 41 I’ll tell 
him to stay in to-morrow. ” 

44 No, no; do not trouble him about me, we are sure to 
meet. I came down to see him, but there is no hurry. 1 
am lodging at Greystone. I shall be coming over again.” 

Hoel hurried Qut, and when he was once more walking 
over the springy heather his conscience felt eased about 
Vicary. He had sought him out, and it was not his fault 
that he had not seen him. Now he would wait till after 


398 


KESTELL OE GREYSTOKE. 


the wedding to reveal ‘everything to Jesse. That would be 
time enough, and by then Elva would be gone. It did 
once come across his mind that Jesse might go to Rush- 
brook House, but he dismissed the idea as unlikely. “ He 
can not go without proofs, and these. How should he find 
them? Let Elva at least know nothing of all this; better 
so for her sake — for her sake! Have I not brought enough 
misery already into her life? I fancied I could forget her, 
that I could root out the remembrance of her from my 
mind, and now I see it is hopeless; but, good heavens! will 
it always be so — always?” 

He could not bear to stay on this beautiful moorland; its 
beauty repelled him, maddened him; he could not stand 
being within sight of Rushbrook House, and yet so far away. 
Near or far, what did it matter? He was an outcast from 
it and from her. One day more, and then he could return 
here and see Elva giving herself away to another. Hoel 
Fenner turned his back on Rushbrook and hurried away 
in the direction of Greystone; his brain seemed to reel; 
weak he might be, but this thought gave him strength to 
hurry away. He fancied he should never have the forti- 
tude to return and see Elva again, but at the same time 
he had an overpowering longing to see her. Once more, 
only once more, if even on her wedding-day! 

To himself he appeared a changed man; all the feelings 
which had driven him away from Elva seemed to sink into 
insignificance compared to her love, all the pride which 
had forced him to throw away her happiness and his own 
vanished, although the obstacle remained black and hide- 
ous as before; but this remorse came too late. It would 
now be dishonorable to try and see her and speak to her. 
How intently he longed to go and seek her out and to 
throw himself on her mercy. Would she forgive him? 
No. Why should she? Her very act showed how utterly 
she renounced him, and how utterly she despised him! 

At times he tried to comfort himself with the thought 
that he could not have done otherwise, that if he were once 
more placed in the same position he would act in like man- 
ner, but even as he said this he knew that now at least it 
would all be different, that Elva was r > s pure and as inno- 
cent as it is in the power of humanity to be, and that for 
her he could face shame. Now it was, however, useless to 
speculate on the “ might have been 99 — useless, useless! The 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


399 


word rang out with the clearness which despair seems to 
give to mental words. It was only now, walking on Elva’s 
own heather hills, that true love made itself felt in the 
heart of Hoel Fenner. Clever, highly polished, honorable, 
a gentleman in the world’s understanding of that word, he 
had yet never known what true love meant till this mo- 
ment when it was taken from him. Only now was Hoel a 
lover in its noblest sense; only now he forgot himself in 
thinking of Elva’s happiness, while before it had been that 
he had thought first of his own happiness in possessing 
Elva. 

It was this which made the struggle between love and 
duty so difficult, and it was this which made him put off 
seeking out Jesse Vicary, for he could not resist the desire 
to sacrifice any one rather than Elva. 

“ What can it matter that Jesse should remain in igno- 
rance a few days longer?” he thought again and again, as 
the next morning, after a miserable and sleepless night, he 
rose with his mind filled with only one thought. “ Let 
my darling begin her life without another cloud at least; 
when she is gone, then I will do the best I can for the man 
her father has wronged. But it is not possible that she can 
love Akister. No, no; Elva, you can not understand what 
you are doing; you can not understand the wrong you are 
doing to yourself. To-morrow morning — - Good heavens! 
is it too late even now? Shall I go to her and tell her all 
— all? No, no. What rigfit have I to do so? She would 
say, 4 Why did you not come to me at first? Was it to save 
me or yourself?’ Fool that I was, it was to save myself! 
What could I say? Would she not scorn me a thousand 
times more? — she, so noble, so utterly single-minded. No; 
now it is for her happiness that I let her go on believing 
that I do not love her; she would not believe that 1 could 
see things differently, she would scorn me as I deserve 
to be scorned. And Vicary — what will he say? Will he 
not call me a coward for running away? 1 have not been 
a true friend even to him. It is enough to make a mail 
throw up everything. Well, to-morrow it will be all re- 
paired. To-morrow Elva will be avenged, and Jesse can 
be too if he so wishes!” 

But to-day seemed unbearable. Hoel could settle down 
to nothing; he longed to fly over to Kushbrook and de- 
mand, insist, on seeing Elva; and then all the old reason- 


400 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


ing came back and ho shrunk mentally from the scorn he 
would read in her face, and perhaps hear her express. 

It was terrible to Hoel to see his own conduct placed so 
clearly in the wrong, not by others, but by his own con- 
science; it was this seif-abasement, achieved by his own 
acute reasoning, which was to a man of his temperament 
harder to bear than even public reproach. 

Now, however, he mistrusted his own judgment; now 
he would not follow the instinct which told him not to de- 
Jay because he felt it must be mixed with jealousy and 
hopeless love. 

fc4 You have wronged the woman who loved you and 
trusted you,” said his silent accuser, 44 and you have also 
wronged the man who believed in you, and both these 
wrongs arose from your self-love.” 

For the first time Hoel understood the meaning of some 
words he had once read: 44 Conscientia est cordis scientia ” 
— 44 Conscience is the knowledge of the heart.” Not a 
mere petty holding of the scales of actions, not an anxiety 
to balance the pros and cons, but a much grander motive 
power striking directly at the heart and asking for the same 
justice to others which we give to ourselves. 

The mental agony he had gone through reacted on his 
weakened frame; by the afternoon he felt quite unable to 
make further exertion, and a terrible fear possessed him 
that he would not be able the next day to reach St. John’s 
Church in time for the ceremony. He must creep in 
among the crowd, for it would be impossible to go to the 
Heatons and ask for hospitality. It would put them in a 
false position; besides, it was more than possible that the 
estimable Clara would shut the door in his face, for Hoel 
believed that everyone knew it was his doing that Elva had 
been forsaken. He must therefore pass in with the crowd. 
Should he be able to get so far? He felt already that the 
strain was too much for him, and that he was doing a fool- 
ish thing in going to have one more look at his darling’s 
face. 

He threw himself on the horsehair sofa in his dull lodg- 
ing, and tried hard to compose his mind. How solitary he 
felt now the illness had impaired that former perfect health, 
how he craved for sympathy and love, and for all answer 
to his cravings conscience told him he had with his own 
hand cut himself off from both. He looked forward and 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE 


401 


saw ill the future a life of success, perhaps, but always a 
life with so-called public friends and public applause. He 
wondered if he should marry, but not one form but Elva's 
rose before his mind; she alone had been able to win him, 
and she alone he felt almost, though unwillingly certain, 
would never be displaced. Hoel was not a man to be easily 
influenced or easily touched by love. Well, perhaps then 
in the future he might marry — for convenience, and what 
then? 

“ Without true love as well leave it alone. I have had 
enough of shams; besides, now 1 shall not be rich enough 
to tempt the seekers after matrimony.” 

The outlook was dull, intensely dull, because Hoel felt 
he should sink back into the literary bachelor, the man 
who lives on small admiration and on the impertinent 
patronage of the ignorant, who admire talent simply for 
the reflected light. Pshaw! That life anyhow would be 
wasted, would be easily replaced when it was extinguished. 
After that—? 

“ 1 suppose,” he said at last weary, utterly weary of 
everything, “ 1 shall somehow or other manage to exist 
without ambition. Thousands of men do so; I shall have 
the satisfaction of knowing that if Kestell of Greystone is 
a scoundrel, I am as bad.” 

At that moment the landlady entered with a cup of tea. 

“ Pm sure, sir, you do look bad,” she said; “ but a cup 
of tea is safe to do you good. As long as my poor, dear hus- 
band could drink his tea 1 knew he was not going to die; 
it was only when he turned from it that I began to be 
afraid. Look, sir, there's a fine- carriage going" by! 
There's to be a grand wedding to-morrow at Rushbrook 
Beacon; it's the daughter of a gentleman who is well 
known in the town. The milkman's been talking about 
it — milkmen do pick up news and waters it too as they do 
the milk. Mr. Kestell of Greystone — it's his daughter as 
is to be married to the son of Lord Cartmel. It will be a 
pretty affair. They say the young lady is very handsome, 
and anyhow she's rich. Mr. Kestell has got an office in 
this town; Mr. Hope's his partner.” 

“ Ah! I — I — think 1 shall walk over and see the wed- 
ding,” said Hoel, trying to appear indifferent. 

<fc You don't look fit for the walk, sir; they say it's five 
miles; but there, a bit of excitement is good for us all; 


402 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


and may be, sir, that if you are contemplating matrimony 
it will interest you.” 

44 1 am doing nothing of the kind,” said Hoel, im- 
patiently. 

4fc Ah, there’s another carriage! Look, sir, it’s Mr. Kes- 
tell himself. I believe, leastways, that’s the same gentle- 
man with white hair and kind face they showed me be- 
fore.” 

Hoel started up just in time to see Mr. Kestell of Grey- 
stone’s face. 

44 To-morrow,” said Hoel to himself, 44 to-morrow!” 
Aloud, he remarked: 44 Yes, that is Mr. Kestell.” 

44 Then you know him, sir? Well, no wonder you wish 
to go to the wedding! Mrs. Moreton was telling me yes- 
terday that Miss Kestell was to be married before to an- 
other gentleman, but she jilted him. I dare say now it 
was to make the lord’s son propose to her. Girls are so 
very flighty in these days. It’s fortunate it’s turned out 
well, but if she’s one of the flighty sort, the first gentleman 
has had a good riddance of her, that’s what I think! Most 
people pity the women, but I pity the men,vfor queer as 
they are, there is some very strange women among the 
sort as get married. My Bill says how God cursed the 
earth along of Adam and Eve, but I’ve mostly thought, 
sir, that the Almighty didn’t curse it as we understand the 
word, but He just put love in the world, and He let that 
do the work of cursing. For of all the troubles we hear 
of, it’s mostly something to do with love and lovers that 
brings ’em.” 

Hoel only retained one idea out of all these words, and 
this was that Elva had encouraged him to get an offer 
from Walter Akister. 

The idea was insane, and he knew it to be so, but all the 
same he said : 

44 1 will go to the wedding to-morrow, even if it brings 
the fever on again. I will!” 

What small things determine the great events of lives! 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


403 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A STRANGE SIGHT. 

Jesse Vicar y had heard of Hoel Fenner’s visit and in- 
quiry for him, and he had laughed it to scorn. It was this 
very visit that had hurried on his own action and his deter- 
mination this time to act for himself. 

“ Mr. Fenner will ask me to wait another week and do 
nothing/’ he said to himself, as he went down toward 
Rushbrook House on the evening before the wedding. “ I 
will not trust to him or any one else again. I will believe 
in myself only. It is because I am poor and an outcast 
that the rich are willing to trample me down. God knows 
I am willing to be poor, but, at all events, let me have 
justice; let the man who poses for benevolence itself know 
that his sin will find him out — has found him out. He 
may be too busy to see me, but he will not refuse — he shall 
not! Do not I see the whole thing now as clearly as if it 
were written in red on a white sheet? Yes, his benevo- 
lence when we could not help ourselves! His careful 
patronage for fear Symee and I should presume on his 
kindness — kindness forsooth! His anxiety that we should 
rely on ourselves and on our own work, for fear the world 
should say that he had led us to expect too much. Well, 
let all that pass; we were entitled to so little by the justice 
of the law, and that little he has given us, but when he 
saw that I had discovered his secret — no, 1 had not dis- 
covered it, 1 merely wanted to know, as every man may 
want to know, to whom he owes his life — then his con- 
science trembled and he turned against me. Did his paltry 
artifice hide it from me? No, indeed; when the truth 
burst upon me, it was in his lying face that the truth was 
written, in spite of himself. Did he then have one spark 
of honesty and own it? Not he! No; he had better ideas. 
Having lived a lie all his life, he thought to bury his lie 
and to ship off the children whom he had doomed to a life 
of outcasts to another land. I can see him now offering 
me that advantageous farm in Canada. How near I was 
to accepting it and kissing the hand that offered me such 
a blessing — how near! and then with this last act of benevo- 
lence Kestell of Greystone could have posed again as an in- 


404 


KESTELL OF OREYSTONE. 


comparable friend! But Heaven does not blindfold justice 
as we do. I refused him and balked him in his well-laid 
scheme, and then Kestell of Greystone begins to work his 
evil plan still further. Does the old scoundrel believe that 
I am ignorant of the name of the man who caused me to 
be dismissed. Does he think I am such a poor fool as to 
believe Car & Lilley were not paid to dismiss their clerk? 
No; I was a weak fool before, but I have to thank Mr. 
Kestell for opening my eyes. What better person could 
have offered me the fruit of the tree of knowledge of evil? 
The good he never knew except when falsely painted to 
make a show in the world. 

44 1 was dismissed, and then he believed that 1 should 
come and crave humbly for that Canadian farm. He little 
knew me if he thought this; I would a thousand times 
rather die of starvation on his doorstep than accept another 
crust of bread which was paid for with his money! And 
Symee’s coming! Yes, I dare say if one were able to fol- 
low the workings of such a mind, that that too was his do- 
ing. He thought Symee would work on my feelings, that 
she would smooth me down, that perhaps — for what does 
he care? — seeing her suffer would humble me! He little 
understands me, his own — 99 

At this point of his meditation, which was nearly word 
for word the same which had seethed through his brain for 
days and weeks, Jesse Vicary had come upon Amice Kes- 
tell standing on the bridge. 

She was his daughter, that was all he knew at this mo- 
ment, and as for the rest, whatever obstacle might be in 
his way, he would now — yes, now — at last trample it 
underfoot. 

It is terrible to be possessed with one idea, terrible to 
feel that life or death, joy or sorrow, are all of no account 
in comparison with the realization of this supreme thought! 
Had Amice decidedly denied him an entrance, Jesse would 
have taken no heed to her words. Heaven or hell, so he 
fancied, could not stop him now, and certainly not Amice 
Kestell, his daughter! 

When they reached the hall, which was not yet lighted 
up, as the daylight had barely crept out of it (and Jones 
was very busy with solemn overlooking of the plate neces- 
sary for the next day’s function), Amice Kestell paused, 
and shutting the door, turned and stood face to face with 


RESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


405 


Jesse Vicary. She could not see the expression of his face, 
but she recalled only too well ho,w he had looked when she 
had seen him in London. 

“ Jesse Yicary, will you reconsider your wish to see my 
father? I am afraid you are not in a fit state to think 
calmly. Will you not wait till after my sister’s wedding? 
We have had much trouble here since last year.” 

Amice’s tone was very pleading and very humble. At 
another time it would have seemed strange indeed that sh^ 
should be asking something of him which he would not 
grant; now he only chafed at the slight delay. 

“ I must see him. Tell him. Miss Kestell, that Jesse 
yicary is here and must see him now or to-morrow morn- 
ing. I have told you so already; why will you try and alter 
my determination?” 

“ Because you may live to regret this. If we have 
wronged you, Mr. Vicary, and that is what you believe, 
will you not think better of acting hastily?” 

Amice crept up to him as if impelled by an unseen power, 
and laid the gentlest hand upon his arm. So gentle was 
it, indeed, that for the moment Jesse did not realize what 
she was doing, and so powerful was it that for a moment it 
was able to calm him enough to bear to listen to the end 
of her sentence. 

“ "Will you try and remember that it is infinitely more 
blessed to suffer wrong than to inflict it? that it is not you 
who need a Divine pity, but all those who have betrayed 
their trust, whatever it may be? It is not because I wish 
to be spared that I ask for your pity. God knows if I were 
capable I would willingly bear all the misery for them, for 
those I love; but I can not; I can only entreat you to have 
patience, to accept the part chosen by the Great Example 
you pretend to follow, and whatever is in your heart to- 
night, for that sake, not for ours, to crush it out.” 

Powerful must have been Amice’s voice and her words 
to have quelled even for this short time the tide of human 
passion, but Jesse Vicary had given his wtath place for too 
long to be able to master it now, or indeed to be kept back 
for more than an instant. He shook off the gentle hand 
with a movement of passion, and the flood arrested for one 
moment in its furious course raged only more terribly 
when the slight barrier was hurled away. 

“ Are you, then, in his secrets? Is this another trap for 


406 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


me, another way of putting of! the day of justice? 1 have 
sworn to be revenged, or at least to have common justice! 
Miss Kestell, 1 will not sink into the slum of outcast society 
without one effort at getting righted, or of making — " 

“Hush!” said Amice. “You forget you are talking 
to Mr. Kestell's daughter. I do not know of what you are 
speaking. Wait here, in my father's study, and if he 
chooses he will come to you." 

Amice opened the study door and beckoned Jesse in. 
Weak woman she might be when compared with this strong 
man ; yet she possessed that dignity which, conscious as she 
was that Jesse was in the right, could not be crushed. At 
this moment she had the strength of weakness, and Jesse, 
though blinded with passion, could not have spoken an- 
other word to her after she had bidden him to be silent. 

But in truth she did not wait for another word; she 
closed the door upon him, and quivering in every limb, 
she went toward the drawiug-room. She did not give her- 
self time to think, she positively dared not. That Jesse 
Vicary was determined to see her father, she felt sure. 
And if her father would not go to him, then most likely 
Vicary would force his way into the drawing-room. This 
must be prevented, and though she was quite unnerved 
herself, she was strong enough when duty spoke to follow 
its dictates. 

She opened the door gently, so as not to alarm Elva, and 
pausing a moment, Amice saw something which made the 
blood appear to freeze in her veins. 

There was a lamp on the piano, and Elva was seated 
there; she was conscious of this, though she only saw one 
object. This was her father lying. flat on the sofa, one arm 
was hanging down, so that she noticed his hand touched 
the floor. His eyes were shut, and his face perfectly 
colorless. 

Amice made one step forward, with a suppressed cry of 
“ Papa!" The thought darted through 'her mind, “ How 
can Elva sit there so unconcerned? Papa is very ill; he 
has fainted." 

All at once, however, Elva rose up and said: 

“ Amice dear, what is it? Papa is here in the window- 
seat; he can't bear to shut out the light of our last even- 
ing. ” 

Amice paused horror-struck; she gazed again at the 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTOISTE. 


407 


sofa; no one was there; what she had seen was — ! Her pale 
lips refused to form the word, even her brain rebelled 
against the notion that what she had seen was but a false 
creation of her brain. What really roused her was her 
father himself rising from the low window-seat and com- 
ing a step toward her. With the light behind him she 
could not see his features, but his white hair gleamed in 
the hall light in contrast with his black coat. 

44 Well, Amice, what is it?” 

His voice unconsciously altered now when he addressed 
his youngest daughter; to Elva’s ears it grated harshly. 

Amice made an effort to control herself. 

44 Papa, Jesse Vicary is in your study, but do not go to 
him, do not see him, send word by Jones that j^ou are oc- 
cupied.” 

The short sentences were jerked out as if by a great 
effort of will. 

44 What do you mean?” said Mr. Kestell, very slowly. 
44 Why should I not go and see Jesse Vicary? 1 did not 
know he was at Rushbrook.” 

Amice dropped her hands helplessly by her side. She 
seemed to hear Elva’s voice as if it were very far off. She 
did not move one step backward or forward, but stood in 
the middle of the room where she had first uttered her 
startled cry. 

‘‘Dear Amice thinks you are tired, papa,” said Elva. 
“ I thought you said Jesse Vicary had behaved very un- 
gratefully. Please do as Amice suggests, and tell him you 
are busy. It is true, you know. I want you.” 

Mr. Kestell walked back to Elva as if be meant to obey 
her suggestion. He took her hand in his and kissed her. 

44 You will miss your old father, eh, dear?” 

Elva^s arms were round his neck in a moment, and a 
little sob was heard in the big, silent, half-darkened room. 

44 Miss you! Oh, papa, I am only going because you 
wish it. Even now, oh, even now — ” 

‘ 4 Hush, dear! Yes, yes, for your happiness!” 

He unclasped her hands. 

44 By the way, darling, I had better just go and see what 
the young man wants. Your mother is asleep, I hope. 1 
will tell Jones to bring you a light. It has suddenly be- 
come very dark. ” 

He walked hastily away, not once turning to glance at 


408 


KESTELL OF (4 KEYSTONE. 


Amice; and Elva heard him shut the door behind him with 
decision. At this moment, however, she thought more of 
Amice, who stood there so immovable. Elva went quickly 
toward her, fearing that she must be in one of her strange 
moods. What could be done if this were so? Because 
every one in the house was depending on her for the mor- 
row! 

44 Amice, what is the matter? Speak, dear! are you ill?” 

Amice opened her lips and tried to speak. She even 
raised her finger and pointed to the sofa; she tried, oh, so 
hard, to say 44 Look!” but all her senses appeared to for- 
sake her at once, and she fell forward in a dead faint into 
her sister’s arms. 

At that moment Jones opened the door. He was carry- 
ing a lamp. 

64 Jones, go quickly and fetch the nurse' and tell her to 
bring water and salts — anything. Miss Amice has fainted. 
Help me to lay her on the sofa — and please, Jones, tell no 
one; she will soon recover. It is better not to frighten Mrs. 
Kestell, and your master in engaged. Thank you; now go 
quickly.” 

Jones was a wonderful servant; he obeyed to the letter, 
and kept his own counsel. Elva knew how terribly an- 
noyed Amice would be if any one made a fuss about her. 
It was Amice’s way. 

It was a long time before Amice opened her eyes again; 
but when she did so Elva noticed at once that she was per- 
fectly conscious, and recognized them all — Jones, the nurse, 
and herself. 

44 You are better now, dear. Nurse has such powerful 
salts here. Put your hands in this cold water.” 

44 Thank you. Did I faint? How strange! It is the 
first time in my life. Don’t say anything about it. You 
can go, nurse.” 

She tried to sit up, and saw she was on the sofa. The 
blood rushed back to her cheeks, and she struggled to her 
feet. 

44 1 will get up. Thank you, Elva, I will go upstairs. 
Where is papa?” 

44 He went to the study to speak to Mr. Vicary,” said 
Jones, respectfully, as he handed Amice a light shawl. 44 1 
hear the front door miss; I think Mr. Vicary must be 
just gone.” 


KEST ELL OF 0 RET STORE. 409 

44 Elva, go aud wish papa good-night and then come up- 
stairs. Tell him nothing about me, but ask him if he is 
well. He looked so — pale just now.” 

44 1 will, dear. Nurse will give you her arm.” Then 
Amice went out by a side door and walked upstairs. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

44 WHAT COMPENSATION?” 

When Mr. Kesteli first left the drawing-rOom lie met 
Jones in the hall. The latter was placing a small lamp 
on the carved oak table, and the softened light shed a 
pleasant gleam on the tessellated pavement and over the old 
oak furniture. Rushbrook House was very perfect in all 
that related to its interior decoration; the harmony of 
color always impressed new-comers, and prevented the 
wealth that evidently reigned everywhere from appearing- 
in the least ostentatious. 

Mr. Kesteli, pausing as he watched Jones with his usual 
precision stooping to adjust the lamp, realized for a mo- 
ment that though he was the owner of all this he was not 
part of it; that for years he had lived an outside life; and 
that beautiful as this place was, he had been always forced 
to view it from the outside. This psychological truth that 
a man may never really be able to make himself at home 
in the place where he lives, and of which he should by right 
be the keystone, belongs purely to the realm of that which 
we call spirit or soul. • It may be that a pilgrim or even a 
gypsy may have his spirit so attuned to the harmony of 
nature that, moving daily from one place to another, he 
may for all that always feel in his right place, always at 
home, and that a rich man from the contrary reason may 
never join his bodily and his spiritual life, which can alone 
constitute happiness and repose. 

Kesteli of Greystone, for reasons which he knew but too 
well, but which he never analyzed, looked upon all his pos- 
sessions with the eye of a stranger; all the same, he had 
spun the silken threads so closely around him that he was 
imprisoned in the cocoon, and knew that it was impossible 
for him to make his way out. 

He had the power but not the will to face the cold blast 
of the world which lay outside Rushbrook and all its pos- 
sessions. 


410 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


But the longing to come out of it was always there, and 
with it the dread also of some rude hand piercing his 
cocoon, and commanding him to come forth out of his 
silken chamber. 

A Dante can invent bodily punishments, and would fain 
make us shudder at the suffering of the flesh, but he who 
studies life closely will know that it requires no bodily tor- 
ments to make a purgatory. 

Mr. Kestell, pausing in his own hall, could not so much 
as lift up his eyes and say: 44 Lord, have mercy upon me, 
a sinner !" Long ago religion, the belief of an humble soul 
in the power above himself, had ceased to have any influ- 
ence over him: long ago he had turned away and said: 44 I 
must rely on myself ;" and now, terrible thought, self 
seemed to fail him. But courage is the last virtue to leave 
the spirit of man, and Mr. Kestell gathered up what re- 
mained of it, so by the time Jones faced his master, Mr. 
Kestell had made out his plan of action. 

“Jones, the ladies want the curtains drawn. By and 
by put another light here; I want the lamp in the study. 
1 won't wait for my own to be lighted. Vicary is in my 
study, I suppose? I will let him out." 

44 Yes, sir. Shall 1 take the lamp into your study, sir?" 

44 No; go to the drawing-room. I will carry the light 
myself. " 

Mr. Kestell felt that nothing could have induced him to 
enter that room in the dark, and certainly he had never in 
all his life been called a coward. 

Thus it happened that Jesse first saw the dazzling gleam 
of the lamp before he recognized that it was Mr. Kestell 
himself who carried it. 

This latter placed it on the writing-table without saying 
a word; and Jesse, who was standing by the fire-place, was 
silent also. Neither of them held out his hand, and without 
any previous words each understood —but how differently — 
that there was to be no peace between them. 

Blind with anger as was Jesse, the force of habit is so 
strong that as his quick glance noted the outline of the old 
man, noted the white hair, as of old, just touching the coat 
collar, noted the more haggard lines of the features and 
the far greater pallor of the face, he was stopped in his first 
mad wish to seize him by the arm. 

God has impressed upon age, unworthy of respect though 


KESTELL OF GJtEYSTONE. 


411 


it may be, the power of exacting reverence. Was the mark 
on Cain premature old age and the suffering of sin? Even 
before the aged beggar we feel inclined to kneel and rever- 
ence his length of days, if not himself as a man, for the 
world will have grown very old in sin when we experience 
no shade of respect for the gray head. 

The result of this feeling on Jesse was that for a few 
moments he remained silent, and that unlike his original 
intentions he allowed Mr. Kestell to have the first word. 

The lamp was on the table, and the door was shut close 
before Mr. Kestell turned toward Jesse and said: 

“You told my daughter you wanted me, Jesse. I have 
come, though you have chosen a very unfortunate time.” 

“ Yes,” said Jesse, so strong in his virtuous indignation 
that he did not notice that Mr. Kestell called him by his 
Christian instead of surname, nor did he choose to notice 
the tone of deep sadness in which the words were uttered. 
“ Yes, 1 have chosen this time because all time is the same 
to me, and I care not at all whether you are marrying your 
daughter or further imposing upon the world by some act 
of benevolence. I have come here to get justice at last- 
justice from you, Mr. Kestell. Remember, 1 have asked 
for it before, but now I insist upon it. If you refuse 
me ” — Jesse's voice quivered, for having once found the 
power of speech, he was not to be stopped — “ I will pro- 
claim it publicly. If you deny me I will insist on your 
proving me wrong, otherwise your own silence will con- 
demn you as it has done once before.” 

Jesse had nothing to hide. Iiis conscience, so he thought, 
was guiltless; and he stood up straight and powerful, and 
fixed his eyes upon Mr. KestelTs face. Here was another 
proof of the old man's guilt, if that were wanted, for Jesse 
saw that the blue eyes were at once bent to the ground, 
and that the hand that rested on the table trembled visibly. 

“ What justice do you want?” said Mr. Kestell, in a 
very low voice. 

“ What justice? How can you ask me? you who have 
posed so long for a good man, you who have made me be- 
lieve in you when 1 was young, who — who — and now you 
ask what justice? Is it not the justice of my whole life 
that I am asking for — the justice of my birth, the justice 
of my lonely boyhood, my scorned youth, the struggles of 
my manhood? Is not that enough to ask reparation for? 


412 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


But if you want more, take it. Do you think, Mr. Kes- 
tell, that 1 am the blind Jesse Vicary you once thought 
me, and that you wished me to remain? Do you think 
that 1 do not see clearly the truth now, aud that nothing 
can veil it from me any more? Do you think that it has 
not eaten into my very heart and taken from me peace of 
mind and soul, and all because you are a mean coward and 
can not own even to yourself that you have broken the laws 
of man and God? And you fancy that by hiding them aud 
making me suffer for your sins, yon can blot them out?” 

The storm of passion seemed to shake Jesse as the blast 
of wind sways the forest trees. Stranger still, it appeared 
to have the opposite effect on the accused who stood before 
the bar. His calmness was as the calmness of the cyclone 
center, terrible and awe-inspiring. While Jesse had been 
hurling out his accusation, Mr. Kestell’s ashy pale lips had 
moved. The inaudible words he said were: “ How can he 
know? Who has told him? It must be Hoel Fenner. But 
no one can know the whole truth — even now I can repair 
the evil, even now.” When Jesse paused, Mr. Kestell said 
again, quite calmly: 

44 Tell me, Jesse, what justice do you want? What sum 
of money will satisfy you? And if you are a man, tell me 
plainly what you want, and I will do my best to satisfy 
you. But spare me many words for the sake of the inno- 
cent.” 

Jesse was not pacified by these words; on the contrary, 
they were like a sudden blast upon a burning rick of hay. 

44 What justice? What sum of money? Money! Money! 
Do you ask me that? Do you so little understand any 
honorable feelings belonging to a man who, God help him, 
calls himself a gentleman? Money! Why, I have already 
had too much of your miserable gold. I have had more 
than the law allows me. But if it were in my power I would 
throw you back every penny you ever spent upon me — ay, 
to the uttermost farthing! Have you not tried to force me 
to accept more of your money by depriving me of honest 
employment? Do you think that 1 do not know that it was 
your evil work that turned me out of Card's office? You 
thought to make me accept your Canadian farm. Now 
here is my answer: Not one penny of your money will I 
accept — not one; but all the same, I will have justice!” 

Mr. Kestell raised his eyes to Jesse's face, and the look 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


413 


that was in them was one of utter amazement. Had Jesse 
not been mad and possessed by evil anger he might have 
read astonishment in the look. As it was, he put it down 
to another hypocritical trick, both the look and the words 
that followed. Mr. Kestell put out his hand in a deprecat- 
ing manner, and was going to exclaim, but suddenly altered 
his mind, as he said: 

“ I do not understand you. If you will not have money, 
what will you have? Have you no pity? Do you want me 
to— to— ” 

44 Yes,” said Jesse, quickly, 46 1 want you to be honest 
and proclaim the injustice you have done me all these 
years. You who have posed as my benefactor, as my pro- 
tector, who have pretended I was but a child saved from 
the work-house. No! Not me alone, but my sister, an in- 
nocent girl. I wish you to own at last your sin, and to take 
away from us the stigma of our birth. Own it once and 
then do not be afraid I shall trouble you again or allow 
Symee to do so. For the sake of my poor mother, whom 
no doubt your cruelty killed, you shall own that if we are 
outcasts, it is because to you, the rich man, the much-re- 
spected Kestell of Greystone, it is because to you we owe 
our existence.” 

Jesse made a step forward, as if in his blind anger he 
would willingly seize Mr. Kestell by the throat and make 
him speak out his confession then and there at the risk of 
his life. 

No wonder that anger is called blind, no wonder that 
its fierce power entirely sweeps away any judgment and 
sense, otherwise Jesse must have noted that the man before 
him seemed all at once to change, that a faint color stole 
over his thin, pale cheeks, and then he heaved a deep sigh 
as it were almost of relief. 

44 You want me to sign a declaration of the truth about 
your birth?” he said. 44 Is that the justice you want?” 

44 Yes. If I am to carry the stigma to my death, at 
least you, the author of it, shall bear it too.” 

44 You will not accept compensation?” 

44 No! a thousand times, no! Besides, I have no right 
to any. You have done your legal duty. It is in the sight 
of God that you will learn the moral right of every one of 
His children. There are some crimes which will be judged 
only at the last day.” 


414 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


“ Jesse, you shall have your rights,” said Mr. Kestell, 
in a low voice. “You shall have your rights; but have 
some mercy! Wait till to-morrow. After all these years 
it is not asking much of you. Wait till my dear child is 
married— to-morrow afternoon or to-morrow evening — give 
me till six o’clock — till eight o’clock — name your time, and 
then come and find me here if you like. After that time 
you can proclaim your wrongs — only wait till then. 1 am 
asking a very short respite. If you have ever had a kindly 
feeling toward me, let that influence you a little, and grant 
me till then — till to-morrow. 1 want to spare her. She 
is a good daughter whom no father could help loving. For 
her sake, not for mine — not for mine — wait these few 
hours. ” 

The old man’s voice trembled in its suppressed eager- 
ness. The very mention of Elva’s name gave him strength 
to humble himself before his accuser. Had it been necessary, 
he felt as if he could have knelt to ask this short respite, 
only this for Elva’s sake. He had hoped so much — not 
prayed — how could he pray? that his enemy would not find 
him out till after that. Nay, more, let not the truth be 
suppressed. Mr. Kestell had hoped to escape altogether, 
but the blow had now fallen in a way that gave him, even 
at this eleventh hour, the power of asking for this delay. 

Jesse Vicary had expected scorn and anger. He was 
utterly unprepared for this supplicating tone. It suddenly 
unnerved him, threw him off the high pinnacle of passion 
he had climbed up to; he felt bewildered for the moment. 

“ Mr. Kestell of Greystone wants to avoid publicity,” 
he said, scornfully, stoopiug to pick up his hat. “ It did 
not matter how many months and years the children good 
enough only for the work-house were pointed out in scorn. 
But let that pass. It is perhaps impossible for some nat- 
ures to understand honor. Have your delay, Mr. Kestell; 
go and have yet one more triumph; but to-morrow I will 
have your written acknowledgment to do with as I like and 
as I think best. 1 will have the truth.” 

The two men who had so terribly changed places were 
standing close by each other as Jesse said these words, 
throwing into them all the scorn learned from mental 
suffering; but Mr. Kestell seemed barely to hear them. 
He was evidently calculating the precious minutes allowed 
to him. 


KESTELL 0 E GREYSTONE. 


415 


“Very well, Jesse. Then to-morrow at seven o’clock 
come here. I will leave orders you are to be admitted. 
And — one thing more. 1 should be very glad if — if it were 
possible — that you should try and forgive. Remember, 
you will never be able to judge of another man’s tempta- 
tion.” 

Jesse Vicary did not answer. He merely walked out of 
the room and into the chilly evening air of the wide moor. 


CHAPTER XV. 

ALONE AT NIGHT. 

When the door shut upon Jesse Vicary, Mr. Kestell re- 
mained standing in deep thought near to the window which 
had not had the curtains drawn across it. He watched the 
retreating form of Jesse with a dull, puzzled look upon his 
face, as if he hardly took in the result of the interview. 
Gradually, however, his ideas shaped themselves into some 
sort of coherence, and the inward agitation showed itself 
by a deadly pallor which spread all over his countenance. 
He looked ten years older than he had done before entering 
the room. 

“ It has come at last,” he murmured. “ But not as I 
expected. He fancied that it is that which has ruined him. 
What will he think when he knows the truth? what will 
the world think? what is the world compared to Elva and 
Celia? No, they must never know — never! How can I 
prevent it? How? How? While there is life there is 
hope, men say. Something may turn up. Strange things 
have happened. He may die between now and then. 
Die! Die!” He dwelt on the word as if it were one he 
had only just heard and was trying to accustom his ears to. 
He took hold of the heavy curtain with his left hand and 
supported himself thus while he passed his right slowly 
across his forehead. 

He then realized that he was wishing Jesse Vicary to die 
— that if some one could at this moment bring him the 
news of his death he would reward him handsomely. 

Was that murder? Something like it; and the hideous 
idea seemed to take shape and become like a thin j)hantom 
that floated near him and nearly touched him. 

“ Button died and I felt freer, but there were other 
proofs. They have been growing, growing for years. The 


416 KESTELt, OE OREYSTOKE. 

cloud was no bigger than a man’s hand at first; it has 
grown; it has been increasing for years. It is like a weight 
upon me. The air is heavy, oppressive; I can not 
breathe.” 

As if it were really hot, Mr. Kestell pushed back the 
spring of the window and threw up the sash. The cold 
night air poured in like water into a newly made rift in a 
ship, and with this fresh tide of air the ideas in his over- 
heated brain changed suddenly. 

“ Oh, God! is there mercy in man? What if 1 had told 
him all — all — would he have had pity, would he have 
understood? No, youth is pitiless, pitiless — for this mad 
idea he was ready to kill me, but for the truth — Ah, no! 
I did well to wait, to ask for this delay. Shall I face it, 
face it like a man, or face — that other thing? They will 
all know — all but Celia and her relations. Celia, oh, my 
darling! it was for you, for you I did it. But what have I 
given you, and what have you given me in return? Has 
it been altogether a vast deception, would it have been bet- 
ter otherwise? No! No! It could not have been; at least 
you have been happy, and the others, your children, our 
children. Elva, yes; but Amice — there, there again — curse 
it! that phantom follows me, looks at me with those cav- 
ernous eyes. Eh, what was I saying? Are my senses 
going? Was it all worth this — this agony — such a little 
sin. Sin? What is it? An ambiguous word invented by 
the priestcraft of all ages. Who made it sin? Why not 
do the best we can for ourselves? Thousands of worse 
things are called good every day. Sharp practice? What 
is all life but sharp practice? The law is founded on it; if 
I had done it openly, what coull any one have said? What 
would John have said — John — John Peilew? You are here 
— no! what am I saying? If you knew, you would forgive. 
1 spent every penny on them, and more, much more; and 
their name — what is in a name? How many care about a 
name? A man makes his own name. Jesse would have 
made his if he would have been guided. Foolish fellow! 
He would not — he would not. What am I doing here? 
The time is so short, so very short, and there is much to 
do. If 1 could go back step by step to the very beginning, 
1 would act differently. I would have guarded myself bet- 
ter. But then at the end, the very end, would John have 
required it of me? Humbug! Pure nonsense! Who has 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONK. 


417 


come back from the grave to explain it? Ah, but if it 
should be true!” 

A gentle knockat the door recalled Mr. Kestell to com- 
mon thoughts, for very seldom is it that a man, even in 
the crucial moments of his life, indulges in long soliloquy. 
The flood-gate of thought is so strange and overwhelming 
that it is difficult to represent it through the medium of 
words, any more than one cam.describe how the breeze 
becomes a hurricane, for thought is'one of life’s greatest 
mysteries. 

“ Papa, papa, are you there? Is Mr. ^icary gone? 
Amice was afraid you were ill.” 

Elva entered; her own face was pale and care-worn. She 
had gone through a great deal this day, and now the even- 
ing had brought new anxiety in the person of Amice. She 
was evidently in a very nervous state. 

“ Ah, it is you, Elva. Come in, dear, I am alone.” 

“ What did Jesse Vicary want, papa? Has he thought 
better of the Canadian idea? Did he mention Syrnee? 
How I do miss her now! Our new maid is so stupid.” 

46 A little matter of business, dear. You must go to 
bed and rest. You will have so much to think of to- 
morrow.” 

“ Don’t talk about to-morrow! It is to-day I shall re- 
member all my life. Papa, you don’t half understand 
what I am doing for you. You believe it will be for my 
happiness. Well, then, to make you think yourself a good 
prophet, it shall be for my happiness.” 

“ Walter loves you,” said Mr. Kestell. Then going to 
his desk, he drew from it a sealed envelope. “ Look, 
dear, I was going to give you this to-morrow, but I will do 
so now. When you are on your lioney-moon think that 
your old father is happy because you are enjoying your- 
self.” 

He himself opened the envelope and drew from it a 
Bank of England note for a thousand pounds. 

“But, papa, that is too much. 1 shall want for noth- 
ing. Remember — ” 

“ I wish you to keep this, dear, and spend it in things 
lor yourself. It is safer in this way so that you can change 
it easily. He folded it up and closed her fingers over it 
with a smile. “ There, go away, and sleep, and I must 
rest too. Your mother will not rise early.” 

14 


418 


KESTELL OF GKEY STOKE. 


“ Good-night, papa, good-night.” 

She kissed him very tenderly and moved away for fear 
of breaking down, but he called her back. 

“ Say it again, darling. Put your arms round my neck. 
It is very terrible to lose a child. It unnerves me.” 

She could see this was true a3 she obeyed, but this time 
her tears fell fast upon his cheeks. 

“ We must be brave, dearest,” he said. “ For my sake 
you will be brave to-morrow?” 

4 4 I will.” 

“ And you will try and remember that life is not all 
sweetness, child? You must be patient with Walter. I 
know he loves you.” 

“ Hush, papa! We must not say any more about that. ” 

“ You will never let him, or any one, poison your mind 
about your father? Promise me.” 

“ What an idea! Who would dare? If Walter tried to 
do so, l would leave him, I would indeed! There,” Elva 
forced a smile on her lips, “ that is answer enough. 
Good-night.” 

“ Good-bye, dearest. And now go to bed.” 

Elva went upstairs with a heavy heart, but with a firm 
determination to be brave. 

64 It quite upsets papa if I am sad. I will not think. I 
must try and sleep and forget. Amice is right. Papa 
does look ill.” 

She went to a drawer and unlocked it. It was full of 
letters. Resolutely she took them out, and tore them 
across, and put them in the grate. When all of them were 
burned, she heaved a little sigh. 

“ If the past could be destroyed as easily,” she thought. 
“ If I knew, if— Am I doing right? Ought I to do this 
thing? I can never love again, but marriage does not 
always mean that sort of love; no, no, it can not! that 
comes but once — but once. Is not filial duty something 
very great, very precious in God’s sight? It has a com- 
mandment to itself: ‘ Honor thy father and thy mother.’ 
And papa’s greatest wish is that I should marry Walter. 
Would lie wish something that he knew would be against 
my happiness? He must judge better than I can — he who 
has loved so deeply, so devotedly. I will try to make 'Wal- 
ter a good wife, only — 1 dread it — 1 dread it so much — so 
very much!” 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


419 . 


Elva fell on her knees and hid her face in her hands. 
She tried to pray, and the words would not come, but 
prayer is far above mere words, and she who needed so 
much help could only ask humbly for comfort. The ter- 
rible misgiving, which would not, even now at this eleventh 
hour, be thrust away, crushed her. Was she doing right? 
Was self-denial in a case like this a self-denial acceptable 
to God? 

“But girls marry every day for money and position,” 
she said, aloud, rising and pacing her room in deep agita- 
tion. “ And God, Thou knowest that that is not in my 
mind! I have loved once; why can not that love be crushed 
out utterly? It must be, it shall be! When does sacrifice 
end? Is it not the highest work on earth? Does not 
Amice think so? Dear Amice, for her sake, too, I must 
be quite composed. She does not approve of what I am 
doing because she can not understand my love for papa. 
God put that love into my heart, too. He took away the 
other, but He left me this great affection. Why, then, 
shall I not sacrifice all I can for its sake — all — all a wom- 
an can sacrifice?” 

Elva shivered a little. It seemed as if she were slowly 
dying, as if all the fullness of happiness which had once 
been hers was now only a mockery. It had been a beau- 
tiful picture spread out before her in order to make her 
realize still more her present misery. Even now what she 
most wished to forget sprung into her mind with the active 
freshness of new events. She paused before her book- 
shelf, and her eyes rested on “An Undine of To-day.” 
Now she could see very plainly all its faults. She had had 
the baptism of suffering, and she remembered Hoers words 
about good writing being bought at the price of suffering. 
But she had suffered now, and Hoel had caused her to do 
so. Strange that through him she had learned the power 
of pain, the power of that mysterious agony of a world 
which is so very visibly formed for beauty and joy, and 
which also is unmistakably impressed with pain. We 
seem compelled to hand round sorrow to our neighbors 
when they are crying out to us to give them the opposite, 
but strangest and most divine mystery, through suffering 
is taught the highest knowledge — the knowledge of a 
Divine love! 

Elva could not realize all this yet, she could only catch 


420 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


a glimmer of it through the darkness of her great sorrow, 
but the glimmer was a slight comfort and soothed her 
weary brain. It was like ice on a burning temple, like a 
momentary cessation of pain, when the sufferer fancies he 
can bear no more. 

Presently Elva remembered that if she didn't rest she 
could never go bravely through the wedding service of the 
morrow, and forcing herself to still her thoughts, she 
went to bed. There was nothing in the room to remind 
her of her wedding. She had said she would not have it 
crowded with any presents or wedding-clothes. For one 
more night she would be the girl who had lived a happy 
life. Poor Elva, she realized strongly that it is the mind 
alone which makes or mars our happiness; the outward 
circumstances only so far as they disturb the seat of con- 
scious life. 

There was certainly nothing to remind her of her wed- 
ding, but all the same, she slept but little, and the gray 
dawn found her with hut the smallest remains of the cour- 
age which had till now sustained her. 

Little did she guess, through all this self-torture, that 
the father for whom she was doing this had never gone to 
bed at all. 

When Elva was gone and all the household had retired, 
Mr. Kestell still sat on in his study. He had much to do 
apparently, for he wrote on patiently for several hours, 
his hand trembled now and then from weariness perhaps, 
but at other times the bold characters came out strongly 
and clearly on his paper. Once or twice he rose to go to 
the old bureau and to take out papers and examine them. 
Once, too, he started up and seized his closely written sheet 
and taking it in both hands nearly tore it across — nearly — 
not quite. Second thoughts altered his intentions and 
once more he sat down and continued writing. 

It was three o'clock in the morning before he had fin- 
ished. The lamp still burned brightly, but the ashy-gray 
look on the old man's face would have moved any one's 
pity. He was very, very weary, but he would not own it 
even to himself. 

The business he had set before himself was done. The 
most important part of it was all contained in a sealed en- 
velope of the ordinary size and a large blue cover which 
speaks of business pure and simple. - On the outside of this 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


m 

he wrote in clear characters: 64 My Last Will/* and the 
date. Then inclosed it in a large envelope on which could 
be read: 44 To be given to J. Vicary.” 

One envelope was addressed to: 

44 John J. Pellew, Esq. 

“ To be read after my death. ” 

He pushed back the writing-case and the rest of the 
writing materials as if he were sick to death of them, and 
then he opened a small secret drawer from within one of 
the smaller drawers of his writing-table, and took out from 
it an envelope faded and tied with old-fashioned ribbon. 

These were the secrets the envelope contained: 

A small note in a fine Italian hand, signed 44 Celia 
Ovenden/’ a lock of pale, fair hair, somewhat dull of hue, 
and somewhat faded too by age, and lastly two smaller 
locks of hair folded in a white paper on which was written, 
44 Elva and Amice/’ and two dates. 

He put this last back in the drawer. The other, after 
kissing it reverently, he placed in his waistcoat pocket, the 
note he gazed at a long time before he inclosed it in his 
pocket-book. 

44 Celia, my darling/’ he murmured, 44 it was for you, 
all for you, my wife, my wife! my only love!” 

Then he sat quite motionless for a time as if the very 
words were consoling, and lastly lie rose, and lighting a 
candle, he stole upstairs. 

Again he noticed the stupid stare of the round-faced sun 
in the clock, again he paused as if angry at the intrusion 
of this poor lifeless daub and quite mechanically he re- 
peated : 

44 1 must have that altered next time I drive into Grey- 
stone. I have always forgotten it.” 

When he reached the landing, he stopped and listened 
just as if he were a thief that for a moment was conscience- 
stricken when about to commit his crime. It was a strange 
feeling to have in your own house, but it swept over him 
strongly, and caused him to tread more softly and every 
now and then to pause again and listen. 

But all was silent at this hour, not a creature was mov- 
ing in the house. A very faint murmur of wind swept 
along the eaves, and a far-off cock-crow reached his ears. 

That was ail. 


422 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


Then Mr. Kestell paused before his wife’s door, and list- 
ened .attentively, putting his head close to it. Was she 
asleep? Often Mrs. Kestell woke very early, this insomnia 
being caused by a life entirely without exertion, and then 
toward live or six o’clock she would fall asleep again, and 
declare in the morning she had had a wetched night. 

Mr. Kestell waited to ascertain now if this were one of 
her wakeful hours. How earnestly he listened till the 
throb of the blood in the arteries could be heard in his 
ears. At last his listening was rewarded by the faint sound 
of a cough. 

She was then probably awake — awake and conscious. 
What was she thinking of? Did he find a place in her 
recollections of the past? Probably she was meditating 
about the details of Elva’s wedding. Did she from this go 
on to recall her own marriage, and the devotion that had 
been hers then and since? The love that had risen above 
all disappointment and above the rebuffs of a wife who 
suffered from ennui y the love that even now partook of the 
passion of youth and the intense desire that she above all 
others should think well and kindly of him. 

How he longed to open the door! How intensely he de- 
sired to go up to her and give her one kiss and pour out 
the sorrow of his heart, and to tell her that it was for her 
sake that he had done this thing. 

But almost as soon as the wish was formed it was 
crushed. Celia would be alarmed at his untimely appear- 
ance. She would declare that he had given her palpitations 
and disabled her for the fatigues of the next day. There- 
fore he only listened, and then with a whispered, “ Celia, 
Celia, my darling, good-bye!” he raised himself to his full 
height, and went silently on to his own room. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A TRIUMPHAL ARCH. 

There is a paralysis of emotion just as there is a 
paralysis of the limbs of the body. Men and women have 
gone through horrible events, have made fatal vows, and 
stood before the judge delivering his awful sentence with- 
out moving a muscle of the face, and without showing any 
outward emotion whatever. There is a certain courage of 
despair which has never yet been explained, and which 


KESTELL OF GllEY STONE. 


423 


seems to be associated with a vein of recklessness shown 
most in mankind when in a state of under and overciviliza- 
tion. If the problem were not quite mysterious, one might 
declare this strange callousness of self and self-interest to 
be inability, or a temporary inability, to balance cause and 
effect. This courage is entirely opposed to true fortitude, 
which is perfectly clear-sighted and able to balance the 
relative importance of action, and then to accept calmly 
that course which wisdom dictates. 

Every day the world witnesses this strange phenomenon 
in human beings, and those whose minds are turned to- 
ward the hope of ultimate perfection in their own marvel- 
ous race pin their faith on this or that panacea which in 
the future will give wisdom to mankind. Till this is 
found, and perhaps the world will be somewhat a dull place 
when every one is perfect, there will be noble women who 
44 throw themselves away,” as the phrase goes, upon worth- 
less men, and men who 44 might be anything,” and yet are 
crushed by the incubus of a shallow wife, or one who, as if 
with octopus feelers, crushes the breath out of all high 
aspirations at their very birth. 

George Guthrie was not a moralist in the accepted sense 
of the word, but this lovely bright May morning his usual 
spirits rather failed him, as he busied himself with the 
Heatons, and several. of Miss Heaton’s slipper-working 
young ladies, who were intensely flattered at being allowed 
to be useful to their betters at preparing the little church 
for the wedding. George addressed Miss Heaton in his 
mock-heroic bone. 

44 Have you drilled your school-children. Miss Heaton, 
in the art of throwing choice flowers for a bride, to tread 
on? They must, of course, take especial care really to do 
nothing of the sort. The bride must carefully avoid crush- 
ing the lovely petals, and the pink-printed innocents must 
swoop down upon the flowers when she has passed, pick 
them up, and have them ready again for the same cere- 
mony when she walks down the avenue as the Honorable 
Mrs. Walter A luster.” 

The young ladies giggled. Herbert Heaton, who was 
helping George Guthrie to wreathe the triumphal arch at 
the entrance of the church-yard, suggested that it would 
be almost more dignified if the children kept the choice 


424 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


flowers in their baskets, till the bride came out of church. 
George, however, was ready with his answer. 

“We moderns do not think much about dignity when 
we have to compare it with utility. Mrs. Eagle Bennison 
will be, I feel sure, most disappointed if her flowers are 
not scattered as the bride comes up to the church. 1 think 
she said this morning that it was an emblem, but I forget 
what of exactly. But if you take the advice of an old 
bachelor, don’t make an emblem out of matrimony, for 
beyond the truel overknot it becomes a knotty question.” 

“What nonsense you do talk, Mr. Guthrie! Fm sure 
the wedding is very suitable in every way,” said Miss Hea- 
ton, severely. 

“ 1 should be a bold man if 1 disagreed with you, Miss 
Heaton! Look how tastefully Miss Smith has intermingled 
the W. and E., and the pretty conceit of letting it represent 
love; could anything be more poetical and more like the 
marriages that are made in heaven? That reminds me; 
Mrs. Joyce told me this morning that on the Beacon one 
had very ‘embracing air/ Now I call this occupation 
very embracing, don’t you?” 

Miss Heaton felt this was no place for her two young 
lady helpers, and said, gravely: 

“ You and Herbert can easily finish this arch. I think 
we ladies will put the last touches in church. After that, 
Herbert, I shall go and see that, the school-children’s 
baskets are all tied with white ribbon. Mrs. Kestell was 
very anxious that it should be of the best, as 1 told her it 
would do afterward to trim their summer hats.” 

The ladies retired, and George Guthrie knew that he 
was in disgrace. 

“ I declare, Heaton, I must have gone and said some- 
thing wrong! Don’t deny it; I saw it on your sister’s face. 
It’s this horrid ‘ W. E.’ which made me forget that the 
ladies might take my little bracing remarks personally. 
It’s terrible to be under a cloud, when we are expected to 
be making merry. But — no, save the mark!— this affair 
seems ghastly to me. You have read the bans three 
times, so you feel legal over it; it’s upheld many a better 
man before you. Fve read no bans, but really last Sun- 
day I nearly stood up and forbade them. What would 
you have said, Heaton?” 

“ That it is a great mistake fancying we can order the 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOtfE. 


425 


lives of our fellow-creatures. Miss Kestell is able to judge 
for herself. She is by no means weak. Have you heard 
anything more of that — that poor man, Hoel Fenner? Is 
he really in these parts?" 

“I don't know. His apparition was ghostly; I have 
positively not dared to ask further, though, upon my word, 
1 have a great curiosity to meet him face to face, and to 
ask him point-blank why he behaved in that dastardly 
manner." 

44 A woman is at the bottom of everything. An Indian 
judge put it tersely by saying at once: 4 Who is she?' 
Why not think he may have had an excuse, and that Miss 
Kestell was partly answerable?" 

George Guthrie shook his head. 

44 An old fallacy. I can take my oath that it was not 
Elva." 

44 And yet she is marrying some other suitor?" 

44 Under a false idea of something or other! Well, 
here’s the arch, triumphant and all the rest of it, and W. 
E.'s enough to make the bridal pair vow to be divorced in 
a week. Suppose Hoel Fenner were to come? Gallus 
once more seeking out his Lycories. " 

44 That's impossible. Now, Guthrie, 1 must leave you 
to finish this while I go and settle with the archdeacon." 

George Guthrie was restless, however. To him the air 
seemed oppressively hot, and in the distance he saw the 
thunder-clouds rising slowly and gradually hardening 
their outline. He settled he would have nothing more to 
do with the decorations, and seeing Mr. KestelFs gardener 
emerging from the church, he bade him put the finishing 
touches to the arch. 

44 It's a very 'propriate day, sir," said the man, touch- 
ing his cap. 44 There's many of the squire's men have got 
a half day to come and see the wedding, and all our folks 
have a holiday of course." 

44 There’s marriages and marriages, Culver. Do you 
know the woman's answer to the good clergyman who was 
reproving her for the unseemly quarrels she indulged in 
with her husband? 4 My good woman,' said he, 4 remem- 
ber you are one.' 4 Lor', sir,' says she, 4 if you was to go 
by sometimes, you'd think we was twenty.' I expect our 
friends of Rushbrook village are coming to see how they 
are to be made one again." 


m 


KESTELL OF GRET STONE. 


“Well, sir/’ said Culver, grinning broadly, “it’s for 
better, for worse, and one has to take one's chance of that, 
rich and poor alike, and Miss Kestell is such a handsome 
young woman that she was sure to be singled out. My 
wife, she said this morning, Miss KestelPs doing right by 
marrying a gentleman whom she has summered and win- 
tered. It's better than men who belong to the migrating 
class, sir; just come and look at you, and then are otf 
without as much as wishing you good-morning. This arch 
is a handsome thing in its way, sir, and when we've done, 
I think Mr. Kestell will think it very tasteful. He's al- 
ways wanting Miss Kestell to have everything of the very 
best. The poor gentleman will miss her sorely." 

George G uthrie got off at this point without finding any- 
thing more original to say than: 

“ It's a pity that there are some things not to be pur- 
chased with money. So the men on both estates are to 
have a dinner to-night? That is a real British idea, isn't 
it. Culver? Well, good-morning, till two o'clock. If 
you see Mr. Heaton, tell him I've gone to put on my 
white 4 ribbon.' 99 

George Guthrie was popular with everybody, on account 
of his treating rich and poor much alike. His sympathy 
was more prized than the money of the rich inhabitants of 
Rushbrook, because it was given as a gift of an equal and 
not as a dole, even though they all recognized Mr. Guthrie 
was a gentleman born and bred as good as any of the other 
grand gentlefolks who spoke so condescendingly to those 
below them. 

George Guthrie walked slowly away across the common, 
taking a short cut to Court Garden. 

The weather was certainly oppressive. It was that which 
was making him feel so unlike himself, that aud his whole 
feeling of repulsion at Elva’s wedding, so he thought. He 
had hardly seen her since those few private words he had 
had with her. She had kept herself entirely out of sight 
under plea of being busy, and it was impossible to do any- 
thing else than congratulate Walter, Mr. Kestell, and Lord 
Cartmel. 

“ Of course I did congratulate them, but I fancied Ihe 
words I said would stick in my throat. May God forgive 
me for the lies I've had to tell! Her father gives her 
away, and Walter Akister has got a- young lord to act as 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


427 


his best man. What a farce it all is! Hang it, Elva will 
have no bride-maid except her sister; as well have an in- 
carcerated nun as Amice. That girl is on the high-road to 
a lunatic asylum. If it wasn't that Amice told us that 
she specially hoped we should all come, I would cut the 
whole affair. What a sky! But the storm is rising, I’m 
sure. 

“ This won’t do. I must reform and be a good boy, 
and make a button-hole for the squire. I wonder he is not 
painfully reminded of the first day of his thralldom! I 
would rather be tied up with honest rope than silken threads 
that get so round a fellow there’s no bursting the bonds!” 

He opened a little wicket gate that led to the park 
through a fir plantation for a short distance, and then 
issued out upon one of the delicious green lawns of Court 
Garden. 

Like a beautiful early butterfly, Mrs. Eagle Bennison 
was flitting this morning among her flower-beds. The 
smile and the pearly teeth were, as ever, visible. 

“ Oh, George, I was wanting you! Come and help me — 
there’s a good fellow. Our servants are all going to the 
wedding, and they must have each a little nosegay. These 
forget-me-nots are going off, so we can pick them. The 
white and blue mixed will be quite sweet, won’t they? You 
know Peterson and the boy have gone to help at the church. 
Dear Elva and Walter! It quite seems like marrying one’s 
own children, doesn’t it? How glad I am that horried 
Hoel Fenner disappeared! So like a wicked literary man! 
One never knows about people of that sort, does one?” 

“ He was handsomer than Walter Akister,” said George, 
stooping down at once and beginning his labors of Hercules 
over the minute forget-me-nots, and wishing they were 
guelder roses, so that one each would have amply sufficed 
for the servants. 

“ I do so distrust handsome men, the naughty creatures 
are so apt to be deceitful and to take one in. When I — I 
mean before 1 married John I was quite besieged with 
handsome men, but I said no, I will have worth!” 

“Worth how much?” innocently asked George, feeling 
sure the handsome men had all been poorer than Squire 
John. 

“ That, of course, had nothing to do with it. And I 
have, never regretted my choice.” 


428 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


“ I should think not. I declare, sweet coz, that it would 
be difficult to find even a crumpled leaf in your bed of 
roses. ” 

“ What a swefct simile! But of course life has its trials. 
I think, George, Til go in and rest. I know you’ll see 
there are ten little nosegays made up ready for the serv- 
ants. They must start early. You’ll drive down with us, 
won’t you?” 

“No, thank you. I’ll run down quicker on my own legs 
and take my own time. I had better see the start of the 
ten pieces of silver — the servants, I mean.” 

“ Oh, thank you! Yes, that will be kind. Here is the 
white ribbon to tie up the posies.” 

Mrs. Engle Bennison flitted away to have a little nap 
before early luncheon, leaving George Guthrie happily at 
work in the broiling sun. 

“ Forget-me-not!” he murmured, pathetically. “ For- 
get-me-not — I’m not likely to if 1 get a sunstroke or begin 
to peel during the ceremony.” 

But being a good fellow, he got interested in his task, 
taking pride in making each nosegay different. As (he 
house-maid Sarah had a special interest in his eyes because 
her lover lived in the village and was a “ first-rate fellow,” 
he took much trouble in arranging her nosegay as a true- 
love-knot, the white forget-me-nots outlining the knot. 

“ How Sally— no, Sarah — will giggle! I would rather 
stake my hat on her happiness than on that of Elva. By 
the way, outside the plantation there’s some spinolosa. I’ll 
go and get it, and . let the servants take it down with 
them.” 

Off he rushed presently, after depositing the nosegays in 
the servants’ hall, and without waiting for the thanks 
which were showered on him by the busy servants. 

“ One gets a great mauy thanks for being an idle man,” 
he thought, as he came down the drive toward the Pools, 
and so plunged down into a great empty dank hollow 
which lay between the Pools, and which once had been 
filled with water. Here, in the soft, boggy bank, George 
Guthrie had discovered a patch of exquisite ferns, and 
thinking only of the admiration they would call forth, he 
let himself down by now and then catching hold of a slight 
stem. All at once he paused in utter amazement, for, sit- 
ting in this sunless and melancholy spot was Jesse Vicary, 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


429 


with folded arms, leaning against the stem of a great fir- 
tree which rose high above the more coppice-like growth of 
the hollow. 

Jesse was as much surprised as George Guthrie at the 
unexpected meeting. 

“Good heavens!” said this latter. “Why, my dear 
fellow, you’ll damp off for a certainty, if you meditate 
here! It's enough to give you ague, intermittent fever, 
and typhoid all at once! I didn’t know that— Oh, you’ve 
come to see Miss Kestell married?” 

Jesse would have given anything to have escaped notice; 
as it was, he tried to dissemble. 

“ I’ve come to get a little change, Mr. Guthrie. I’m 
going back to-night by the mail, but I’m not much in the 
mood for weddings.” 

“ Ah!” George was puzzled. Jesse had altered so 
much — the grand, hopeful expression had left his face. 
George felt all this, though he was not much able, to argue 
out his feelings. 

“ Mood for weddings? Nonsense! Neither am I in a 
mood for this wedding, but we have to make the best of 
the inevitable. Come along with me, Vicary. I’ll give 
you some luncheon and act courier. If you have had a 
little misunderstanding with Mr. Kestell, now’s the time 
to make it up. He’s kind-hearted at the bottom.” 

Jesse stood up and leaned against the great red trunk. 
He looked really ill; his face was hollow and haggard, his 
eyes were bloodshot from want of sleep. 

“ I am only waiting at Rushbrook for a last interview 
with Mr. Kestell,” he said in a low voice, for in George 
Guthrie’s presence it was difficult to lose self-control, so 
much influence have all true-hearted natures. “ I am here 
only for that explanation, not for weddings.” 

The reason and point of his answer was of course entire- 
ly a mystery to Mr. Guthrie, but judging only from the 
outside man, he could see well enough that something had 
gone very wrong with Jesse Vicaiy. Poor fellow, he had 
heard that he was out of work — perhaps he was in real 
need. Quite silently George slipped his hand into liis 
pocket; but no, how could he offer money? For a moment 
George thought whether, if he tried, he could slip some 
gold pieces into Jesse’s pocket unawares; but the experi- 


430 


KESTELL OF GREY8TONB. 


ment was too dangerous. He had not enough legerdemain 
talent for that. 

“I’ll tell you what, Vicary, you look very far from 
well; that makes you see everything through black specta- 
cles. Why, man, for your sister’s sake you ought to cheer 
up. Do me a favor; we are old friends, you know. Come 
to the wedding with me, and then this evening we will go 
to Folkestone. I’ve got to spend a week there to recruit 
my own health; the very idea of a wedding quite disturbs 
my equilibrium for a month, and Symee shall come too, and 
she can find a friend to accompany her. ” (Yes, these spare 
guineas would cover expenses fo a week). “ You are sure 
to find work when you go back as sunburned as a plow-boy. 
Why, now, I don’t wonder no one will have you near 
them.” 

George Guthrie had spoken very quickly, partly to hide 
his own confusion and distress, and partly to give Jesse 
time to recover. It was impossible not to be touched by 
the warm feeling that prompted all this lively sketch, and 
Jesse felt it deeply; but he would not trust himself to say 
more than “ Thank you, Mr. Guthrie, it’s impossible, 
quite impossible.” Then turning away he was gone before 
George could follow him. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ WILT THOU HAVE THIS MAN?” 

St. John’s Church only boasted of one bell, and true 
to the rules of more elaborate music, it was the length of 
the interval which settled the grave or gay of the occasion. 
The rope being pulled vigorously, the wedding-bell there** 
fore always sounded as if it w*ere in a great hurry and 
wished the bride and bridegroom not to keep it too long 
waiting and ringing. 

But use is part of our second nature, and it was only the 
irreverent stranger who sjioke slightingly of the little tinkle. 

On this occasion Miss Clara Heaton was very much 
fussed; it was difficult to be here, there, and everywhere, 
and more difficult still to keep an eye on Herbert. The 
crowd had gathered early and swarmed into the church, 
packing itself considerately like a herring barrel, and mak- 
ing the best of having to wait a long time by various whis- 
pered remarks on the floral decorations and small pieces of 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


431 


information about the bride and bridegroom. To be hon- 
est, these remarks were by no means as original as they are 
often represented by our brilliant novelists when anxious 
to do justice to uneducated wit. But Rushbrook rustics 
were not on this high level. 

Mrs. Smith, senior, who was fanning herself vigorously 
with her pocket-handkerchief, as she held Tommy up to 
see his elders’ heads and bonnets, remarked in a loud whis- 
per to Mrs. Tubbs that she hadn’t had time to cook the 
dinner and had hurried away only just eating a dry crust, 
which was, in her opinion, “ a poor substitute for the 
stomach.” ’Liza’s mother, who was not well versed in 
long words, accepted this statement without questioning, 
and added that she had had a bit before starting, because 
mother didn’t like waiting, but she knew Mrs. Black had 
only warmed up a potato pie, for Miss Heaton had told her 
there would be no getting into the church if they were late, 
and her little Polly was such a trouble, for the doctor said 
she was cutting her teeth through her brain. This even 
greater falsification than usual of a poor doctor’s remarks 
on teeth-cutting was received in perfect faith, as that 
curious physical fact was quite current in Rushbrook. 

“ There now,” whispered Mrs. Smith, beginning to wipe 
Tommy’s face anyhGW without regard to the bearings of 
his features, thereby making him whimper, “ I declare 
Miss Heaton has put off the Mothers’ Meeting (his after- 
noon on account of the wedding, but that Mrs. Eagle Ben- 
nison wished us to come to Court Garden to-morrow to 
have a tea and a bit of talking to.” 

“ Mrs. Eagle Bennison,” retorted Mrs. Black, “ is won- 
derful with her tongue. She can expound Scripture a deal 
better than Miss Heaton, who always stops every minute as 
if she were trying to swallow cherrystones; but Mrs. Eagle 
Bennison, she is never at a loss like, and can explain every 
word in the Bible, even the 4 i ’ in badger skin, so as to 
draw tears from the eyes — that she can.” 

“Well, now! can she, really?” said Mrs. Smith, who 
was not given to going to meetings, and was not very par- 
tial to the mistress of Court Garden. “ She asked me to 
come to join some society about the 4 training of the ’drus- 
tial poor,’ but my husband says I’m not to go trepassing 
about meetings; ’taiu’t respectable ; he thinks; but Lor’! 


432 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


every one does it now, I tell him; he’s behind-hand, that 
he is.” 

“Hush!” said Mrs. Black. “There’s Mr. Heaton 
coming to tidy up the bits of flowers. No, it ain’t, it’s 
Jimmy Johns; his long skirt is fine and quite new.” 

“That’s his hassock,” corrected Mrs. Tubbs. “But 
harkee, they’re coming.” 

“ Look, Tommy, your sister is outside a-strewing flowers 
for the lady to walk on; isn’t she a darling?” 

The excitement was great within the church, and a slight 
disappointment was felt by the congregation that they 
couldn’t eat their cake and have it as well; in other words, 
the crowd within envied the crowd without. One seat on 
each side next to the entrance had been reserved for the 
few privileged persons who were to witness both the arrival 
of the bride and the ceremony in church. These were the 
servants of Buslibrook House, as of course they would 
come late on account of their press of work at the bride’s 
home. The little girls that lined the path on each side 
looked like pink-tipped petals of daisies, and made a very 
pretty border to the church-yard, with their pink frocks 
and white hats, and their white baskets filled with white 
flowers. 

As the carriages began driving up, a little flutter of ex- 
citement thrilled through the daisies and was communicat- 
ed to the compact mass behind them. It was a real pleas- 
ure to the country folk to see such lovely garments and to 
witness the bustle and excitement in the various groups 
that gathered at the gate awaiting the bride’s arrival. 

Walter Akister had been only too willing to accede to 
Elva’s wish of a quiet wedding. He hated any kind of fuss 
or publicity, and was only anxious enough to have the 
whole thing over, so no strangers were to be present, for 
Elva had positively rejected even the help of her Fitzgerald 
cousins to see her married. She pleaded her mother’s 
health, and the impossibility of getting any number of peo- 
ple into St. John’s. Bella Akister was to be a sort of 
bride-maid, and was to walk with Amice behind the bride. 
Mrs. Eagle Bennison had wondered that a rich man like 
Mr. Kestell was content with such a simple little affair; 
but then Elva was so spoiled and her father humored her 
shockingly. 

The squire and his wife came driving up just at the right 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


433 


moment, and were received by Lord Cartmel, who was 
dreamily answering Miss Heaton’s remarks about the sud- 
den heat. He had been brought here by Betia, who stood 
arrayed in white silk, which color contrasted painfully with 
her freckled fair face. 

Mrs. Eagle Bennison was quite equal to the occasion, 
and at once made everybody feel more cheerful by the con- 
stant display of her pearly teeth. 

“Now really, isn’t this sweet and rural. Lord Cartmel? 
So like the simple wishes of our young pair? The little 
cottage girls are quite models of propriety, I see, and how 
delightful one’s flowers look in those picturesque baskets. 
Our tiny church is quite charmingly decorated, I hear from 
George Guthrie. By the way, he ought to be here; naughty 
fellow, he will be late.” 

“ He helped us with this arch,” said Miss Heaton. “ He 
has so much time on his hands that one does not mind ask- 
ing him to do things. Now I think 1 shall go into church. 
One’s presence prevents the people behaving irreverently.” 

“ Yes, yes — just so. When 1 thought out the rules of 
the T. A. P. S. I also wished to inculcate reverence to 
all that is above. The poor are so apt to forget it. Now 
really I think I shall go in too, and here are some more 
ladies. We had better go. in together.” 

The select company swept in between the rows of pink 
children and felt that they were partly placed there in 
their honor. 

Poor Betta began to feel very shy and wished heartily 
the bride would come. It was nearly half past two, and 
though it is quite correct for a bride to be late, the shy 
bride-maid did not appreciate being stared at by every one 
who crowded in. Lord Cartmel, too, was uneasy about his 
son and the best man, and hoped secretly that he would 
not be expected to be in any way master of the ceremonies. 
He had forgotten his own wedding and wished himself back 
in The Observatory, making experiments with the spectrum. 

At last the Rushbrook carriage was seen driving slowly 
up the steep road, the two policemen began to clear a way 
in the outside crowd who were not allowed to enter the 
church-yard, though they of course offered no interference 
to a gentleman who suddenly hurried in, hardly noticed in 
the general excitement, and who resolutely forced himself 
a place near to the church door within the angle formed by 


434 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


a buttress. He could see here perfectly. Evidently he 
was not a wedding guest, for he had no favor, and no notice 
was taken of him. Hoel did not wish to be seen, but he 
would come here unnoticed if possible, to look once more 
at the woman whom he loved now above all worldly con- 
sideration. He must see her once more. He fancied he 
could tell if she were happy, if indeed his cruel desertion 
had killed her love and she had been able to find comfort 
in Walter’s unchanging affection. This was the mad wish 
that seized him, the wish that made him disregard all 
else. He saw, but took no heed of the crowd of pink 
school-children; he heard remarks,, but they did not reach 
his brain. He saw people he knew, but he did not appar- 
ently recognize them, and those few minutes of waiting 
were prolonged in his mind to a long age of intense suffer- 
ing. There was Walter Akister and his best man stationed 
close beside him at the church door, but their backs were 
to him. The last time he had seen Walter was when the 
cold black water was closing over him. It was a very 
painful thought that he owed his life to him. In his de- 
lirium Sceur Marie had told him he had gone over the scene 
again and again. Should he in after-years go over this 
scene. Should he always have that awful feeling of despair, 
of mute agony, that seemed to weigh him down physically 
a3 well as mentally? Was he really the light-hearted Hoel 
who had first seen this beautiful landscape? He felt he 
was a very different being, a man who had no interests, 
who would, after to-day, retire into the outside life of ordi- 
nary routine, with no soul in it. For in the long run the 
study of self becomes very uninteresting, even if that self 
is out of the common order. 

All this came dully before his mind, and then he won- 
dered why he was here, and why he had come to add an- 
other torture to his already racked sensations, and all the 
time he looked with hungry eyes toward the triumphal arch 
under which Elva would walk. 

All at once he saw her, and all the strength he had fan- 
cied he possessed forsook him, for it was not the old Elva 
he gazed at, but a pale reflex of the woman whose face he 
had traced again and again in his mental vision. Through 
the thin veil he saw her plainly, and even when she first 
issued from under the flowery bower, he gazed and gazed 
again, She was leaning on the arm of her father, they. 


KESTELL OF OBEY STONE. 


485 


were walking very slowly, for the little girls in shy delight 
were scattering their flowers before her feet. Elva had 
known nothing of this arrangement, and for a moment it 
seemed to pain her. She even paused an instant, and then, 
was it the strong attractive power of the electricity of love, 
or why should she have raised her head, and suddenly 
turned her eyes straight toward Hoel? Their eyes met. 
In Elva’s look there was mingled the deep reproach of in- 
jured love, in HoeFs the saddest and humblest craving for 
forgiveness that human eyes can express. 

Walter Akister had been waiting for the arrival of the 
bride at the arch, to go into the church, and he was just 
about to do this, having given a glance down the path, 
when he too was arrested by Elva’s pause. He turned to- 
ward her again, and took a few steps in her direction, but 
nobody noticed him, for all eyes were fixed on the bride. 

Her white face suddenly flushed, her whole frame trem- 
bled, and so terribly overcome was she that she paused a 
moment and leaned more heavily on her father’s arm. 
This unexpected stoppage caused Betta to tread on part of 
the long train which Amice loosely held, and for a second 
Walter fancied this was the reason of the whole episode. 

Then he too was made conscious of that electricity, that 
thought-wave of which we know so little, but which exists, 
and turning sharply round in the direction of the bride’s 
eyes, he too saw what had unnerved her — the presence of 
Hoel Fenner! 

46 Papa, papa,” whispered Elva to her father. “He is 
there. Do you see him? He has come back. I can not, 
I can not go on; you said he never would .’ \ 

Mr. Kestell didf not pause to analyze any feeling; he felt 
like a man who has seen in the near distance the tidal wave 
rushing toward him ready to ingulf him. He forcibly 
drew on his child. 

“ Elva, dearest, recollect yourself. Think of the many 
eyes upon you. For Heaven’s sake, come on! You can 
not stop now. Look, Walter is awaiting you.” 

The procession began to move on again. The little girls 
were not even conscious of a hitch, their individual efforts 
engrossing them. Even the closely packed onlookers be- 
hind them barely realized more than that the Honorable 
Miss Akister had trodden on the white gown, and that Miss 
Amice looked scared and dropped the train so that it 


436 


KESTELL OE GREYSTONE. 


swept over the white blossoms, collecting them into un- 
graceful heaps. 

Walter, by rights, should now have been in church, but 
he cared nothing about appearances, and heeded not the 
almost audible whisper of his best man to “ come on.” 

His brows knitted and his eyes gleamed with an un- 
natural look as he glanced from the bride to Hoel Fenner, 
the veins started in his forehead and the blood rushed to 
his cheeks, so that Elva and her father were close to him 
before he recollected that he was in public, that many eves, 
even if they were rustic eyes, would now be fixed on him. 

“ Go in, Walter,” murmured Mr. Kestell; his lips were 
ashy pale. 

“ Yes, yes. But what business has that fellow 7 here? I 
will have him turned out. 1 — ” 

“ It's all right, Akister,” again murmured Mr. Kestell. 
k ‘ Go in; you are stopping the way.” 

46 And I will, too, till he is off. Damn the fellow!” 

Passion had got the better of him; and Elva, once more 
pale, gazed in horror at the face of the man she was about 
to marry. 

Even this had happened so quickly that it was difficult 
for the onlookers to make anything of it. But impatience 
to follow the bride now caused the cordon of pink girls 
close to the church door to be broken and the bridal-party 
were by this means forced forward in confusion. In vain 
Mr. Kestell w r aved his disengaged arm and cried: ‘‘Keep 
olf!” he was not regarded, so in another second he and 
Elva, followed by the bride-maids, found themselves with 
little ceremony walking up the aisle toward the chancel 
steps, where Mr. Heaton and the archdeacon were waiting 
to perform the marriage ceremony. 

Among the first to force his way in in spite of opposition, 
was Hoel, only just in time, however, for the policemen, 
seeing a commotion, now forcibly cleared Hie entrance and 
managed to bar the way across the open door. 

But no policeman could have stopped Hoel from enter- 
ing. He had been utterly unconscious of Walter's look of 
hatred, unconscious of everything but Elra's reproach, a 
reproach which humbled him to the dust. “ Thou art the 
man!” rang through his ears. “ Thou, Hoel Fenner, the 
irreproachable in thine own sight, thou hast done this thing, 


KE8TELL OF GREY STONE, 437 

thou hast ruined a woman’s life, her faith, her belief. 
Why complain that thy punishment is heavy?” 

But this punishment was not a small thing to him, it 
was a living death. He could not blame any one but him- 
self, and he could but repeat again and again: “ Elva, if 
you had waited! if — But why should you have waited?” 

The marriage service had begun. 

The wedding guests were ranged in the front seats, and 
were conspicuous from their fine clothes. George Guthrie 
had stepped in, as he thought, rather late, through the ves- 
try door, but taking the end seat in the squire’s pew, he 
waited in some anxiety the appearance of Walter. It sur- 
prised him at last when bride and bridegroom seemed sud- 
denly to present themselves at once, and as he turned 
round he noticed the disturbance at the door. 

George, who could see the bride’s profile, remarked her- 
pale face, and near to him, the black look and knitted 
brows of Walter. He could not see Mr. Kestell’s face, but 
evidently the chief actors in the wedding were in a very 
unusual state of mind. 

“ Eh, well, what is in the wind now?” thought George, 
turning over the leaves of his prayer-book in such an ab- 
sent-minded way that Mrs. Eagle Bennison handed him 
hers with the right place found, and a look, meaning, 
“ Oh, George! don’t you know? it’s because you are a 
bachelor.” 

George Guthrie glanced at it. “ Dearly beloved, we are 
gathered together here,” then without paying much more 
attention to the words again fixed his eyes On the small 
semicircle round Mr. Heaton. 

“ Thirdly, it was ordained,” said Herbert Heaton’s clear 
voice, “for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that 
the one ought.to cleave to the other, both in prosperity and 
in adversity — ” 

“By Jove! Elva’s going to make a fool of herself,” 
thought George, and placed his hands behind him, as if to 
do away with the sight of the obnoxious service-book. “ If 
there’s one thing 1 hate more than another, it’s the mar- 
riage service under these circumstances.” He would have 
thought this much more had he known of Hoel’s presence 
at the end of the church. 

“ Let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his 
peace.” 


438 


KE8TELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


George Guthrie actually opened his lips; but there are 
many men who wish to say something that is on their 
minds, but forever hold their peace. 

“ Good gracious! I nearly made a scene,” he thought, 
with a sigh of intense relief that his better judgment had 
prevailed. 

Of the people most concerned only Elva heard every 
word of the service now proceeding. Walter felt that Mr. 
Heaton was confoundedly slow and that he might, for all 
their sakes, hurry on through this uninteresting service. 
But each word fell like the sound of a knell on Elva’s ears. 

It was wonderful she could remain so still, so outwardly 
immovable, wonderful that she did not do more than clasp 
her hands very firmly together. She did not believe Hoel 
was in church, but he had been close beside her; he had 
come back then. Her father. Amice, and Walter had all 
said he would never come here again. They had promised 
she should never, never see him any more, and yet here 
he w T as. 

She heard, through all her thoughts, that slow knell of 
words distinctly. Had she no friend here, no one to help 
her? Was she left quite, quite alone? She suddenly raised 
her eyes to Herbert Heaton’s face, and it seemed to her as 
if it were the face of an angel, so pure, so good did he look, 
and so earnest was his tone. She heard with a new hear- 
ing, as he slowly repeated: 

“ I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the 
dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts 
shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impedi- 
ment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matri- 
mony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured that 
so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s 
Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither 
is their matrimony lawful.” 

Herbert Heaton meant every word he said, and as if to 
impress this more on her mind, Elva fancied that for an 
instant he looked at her searchingly. The secrets of all 
hearts must one day be disclosed, and in her heart there 
was a lie — she did not love this man, but another; un- 
worthy, cruel he might be, but she had loved him, and 
with her to love once was to love always. How could she 
have consented to do this? And now, now it was too late! 
Before God she was going to utter a lie. How could she? 


KESTELL OF GBEYSTONE. 


439 


Bat then how avoid it? She became suddenly conscious of 
the hundreds of eyes fixed on her. Cruel, pitiless eyes they 
seemed to her. She was certain they were looking to see 
her tell this lie. She saw their impatience and the eager- 
ness in which their owners stretched forward. Was this 
purgatory? Were they all fiends ready with their shouts 
of derision? Was she going mad? She clasped her hands 
tighter. She must steady her thoughts. Herbert Heaton 
was listening to hear if she would sell her soul for her 
father’s sake. But he too had deceived her. Everybody 
had deceived her, for Hoel had come back. 

The pause ended — and how many thoughts can be flashed 
through a human brain in a short pause. Herbert Heaton 
turned toward Walter. 

44 Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live 
together after God’s ordinance in the holy state of matri- 
mony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep 
her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others keep 
thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?” 

44 I will,” answered Walter Akister, in a clear, impa- 
tient, fierce voice. 

Yes, now it was her turn; the judge was calling upon 
her for the truth. No, it was Herbert Heaton, Herbert, 
who, like Amice, had always done his duty, who had noth- 
ing to hide, nothing he was ashamed of in his heart. 
Those two words 4k I will!” how soon they would be 
uttered, irrevocably uttered. Her father would bless her 
— her father. She turned her burning eyes toward him 
and saw how troubled he looked; the brows were furrowed, 
the cheeks haggard, he looked years older. Was it true 
that he was more ill than they knew, and this was his last 
wish? If so — 

44 As you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment — ” 
Was Herbert saying this? No, no, not that; but very slow # - 
ly and solemnly he was asking: 44 Wilt thou obey him, and 
serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in 
health—-” 

Could she do this thing? Could she tell this lie? She 
who prided herself on truth, even for her father’s sake? 
No, no; for his sake, because his name was unsullied — was 
honorable — she would not. 

44 So long as ye both shall live?” 

There was an awful silence in the church. The congre- 


440 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


gation all strained their necks and their ears to catch the 
bride’s words, for that was part of the entertainment pro- 
vided for them. You might have heard a pin drop, but 
the figure in white with the thin veil falling about her in 
softest folds never stirred, only the hands were clasped 
tightly, and the lips firmly closed. 

Herbert Heaton bent a little toward her, and fancying 
she was nervous, whispered: 

“Say, ‘ I will.’ ” 

Walter, too, turned toward her; love seemed strangely 
akin to hate, as he too whispered : 

“ Elva, speak. Ho you understand?” 

Her lips moved, she felt as if she were turning to stone, 
petrified by the countless eyes that were upon her. She 
heard the rustle of Mrs. Eagle Bennison’s mauve silk dress. 
She felt Amice come close up to her and whisper her name. 
She saw her father make a step toward her, with speech- 
less terror written on his face, and then again the words 
rang out clearly: 

“ As you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment.” 

She must, God helping her, give that answer-. 

No one word had ever before so electrified the congrega- 
tion of St. John’s on the Moor, as Elva’s “ No,” which, 
if low, was startlingly, clearly enunciated. 

“What nonsense!” muttered Walter. “Heaton, go 
on, I tell you, go on!” He made as if he would forcibly 
take one of her clasped bands, but only Herbert Heaton 
saw I his. He placed himself gently between them. 

“Ho you mean this 6 no’?” he whispered, trying even 
now to shield her if she had made a mistake. “ Are you 
sure? Ho you remember what you are doing?” 

But the strain had been too great. The eyes appeared 
to her to dart out of their sockets like a hundred flashes of 
Gruel lightning, the crowd of grinning demons seemed to 
close her in, she wanted to repeat the words “ Before God,” 
but she felt tongue-tied, and without a sound she fell faint- 
ing upon Amice. 

The scene of confusion that followed can scarcely be de- 
scribed. Every person started as if to get out of their seats 
and. come to the rescue, but George Guthrie was ready at 
once with his commands. 

“ Keep back : . keep back, please! The bride has only 
iainfjed. She wijl recoyer in a few moments.” He was 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOXE. 


441 


by her side, and lifting her in his strong arms before any 
one had quite recovered from the shock of surprise, and 
with the help of Mr. Heaton, they carried her quickly to 
the vestry. Amice following, and several other ladies also. 
Mr. Kestell looked for a moment quite bewildered, as if he 
did not the least understand what had taken place, till the 
shy Betta suddenly, with compassion, whispered: 

64 They are looking after her^ Mr. Kestell, it will be all 
right. She will be soon better. Won't you sit down, 
or — " 

Mr. Kestell looked up at her, then round at the excited 
crowd that was standing up, and covered his face with his 
hands. 

44 Is this shame/' he said, in a hoarse whisper, 44 public 
shame? Oh, it is dreadful!" 

44 No, no," said Betta, not understanding what he could 
mean. 44 She will come out again, and the service will be 
finished." 

Mr. Kestell shook his head, then cast another glance at 
the people, and hurried suddenly away through the choir 
and on toward the vestry. 

The poor people whispered, even spoke audibly, much to 
Miss Heaton’s distress. She rose up, and turning toward 
the crowd, shook her head vigorously, and held up her fin- 
ger, but the catastrophe was altogether too great to be re- 
ceived mutely. Suddenly George Guthrie came quickly 
out of the vestry, and facing the people, he said, in his 
kind voice: 

44 My friends, go home quietly. Miss Kestell is not well, 
the wedding will not take place to-day." 

Then going down to Miss Heaton, he said: 

44 We are taking her to the vicarage; will you go and 
help Amice?" 

The congregation clattered out as if the church were on 
fire; the truth was, they themselves were burning to tell 
somebody. In a few minutes the building was empty of 
all except one man, who was crouching against the wall in 
the last seat. 

44 Oh, God!" he said, kneeling down, and hiding his 
face. 44 1 shall have to go through the agcny again I A 
man can die more than once even here!" 


44 # 


KESTELL OF GREY8T0NE. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

vengeance! 

How long Hoel stayed in the little church he could not 
tell. No one came to disturb him; the door remained 
opened, and the sudden gusts of winds that now and then 
swept up through the pine plantation only blew in a few of 
the crushed petals of the white flowers that the bride had 
not trodden on again. 

All the mental suffering he had experienced, added to 
the physical weakness which still remained, made him only 
able to bear his utter misery by thus resting in this perfect 
solitude. He did not fully realize that the wedding had 
been arrested by Elva herself; he believed that she had 
been too much overstrained to go through with it, and that 
the next day, or as soon as she had sufficiently recovered, 
she would finish the ceremony. He now began blaming 
himself for having come again. He had behaved selfishly, 
and what right had he even to come and beg for her for- 
giveness, even if it had been merely by a look. 

Hoel was again thrown into a state of penitence, and 
recognized that unselfishness is not acquired in a day, nor 
even after having experienced a great shock. He began 
also to writhe under the idea that by showing himself he 
had but added, in her eyes, to his former cowardly conduct. 
How should he ever be able to explain to her that his in- 
tention had been, this time at least, good and honorable? 
He fancied he should be content to see her the wife of an- 
other, if only she could know that his conduct had had 
much excuse. 

“ But how can she ever know this? How can I ever tell 
her?” 

Suddenly Hoel raised his head and recalled his resolution. 
After the wedding he had promised to tell Jesse the truth. 
He might even now be trying to see Mr. Kestell, and — 
No, that must not be! Already, to spare Elva, and there- 
fore himself, he had too long put off what was right. Jesse 
ought to know, and he, Hoel, was the onlv man who might 
influence him. On the other hand, Hoel could not make 
up his mind to leave this spot without first finding out 
whether Elva were better. He looked at his watch, it was 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


443 


nearly half past four. He must find Jesse before going 
back to town. Poor fellow! lie had been wronged by every 
one. 

“ He looked to me as a friend, and I have behaved as no 
friend should have done.” 

He stood up and felt stronger and calmer. Deep down 
in his heart there was the thought that Elva was not yet 
another man’s wife; but he wondered how he could draw 
comfort from such a poor source of hope. Two or three 
days at the most, and the same ghastly scene would be re- 
enacted. Anyhow, he would be a man now; he would put 
away thoughts about himself, and face life and all its 
emptiness as best he could. 

Vicary had been able to find some outside sphere in 
which to throw himself out of himself. That seemed the 
great motive power of men whose lives were mysteries to 
the worldly, and easy going. 

“ If I can’t get up to his exalted state of feeling, at least 
1 can try the working part of the affair. After all, can I 
honestly say that I have been happy all these years? I 
have lived happily, but is that happiness? What is happi- 
ness? But that other thing, I must not put it off any 
longer. Elva is not yet away. Ought I to consider that? 
Have 1 not done that too long already? Fate is too strong 
for me. Anyhow, I must see Vicary. ” 

He stepped out of the church, and looked round cau- 
tiously, almost fearfully, as a prisoner just released from 
jail might do; but all was silence. The path was strewn 
with crushed and much soiled flowers. All the rustics had 
walked over them. No pink-dressed girls were there, no 
smart carriages, nothing of all the show remained, except 
the arch, and its flowers were already withering. 

No one was about. He could not see the vicarage, and 
in its shrubbery, which joined the church-yard, no sound 
was audible. He longed intensely to know something of 
Elva; but how could he show himself? Here he was, he 
must be, looked upon as a scoundrel, whom perhaps even 
Herbert Heaton would pass by without notice. 

This idea was maddening to one of Hoel’s nature, and 
caused him to walk quickly out of the little arbor, to 
plunge into the deep heather up toward Mr. Joyce’s cot- 
tage. 

He would get his duty over and leave Kushbrook for- 


444 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


ever. The stormy clouds had not increased, and a refresh- 
ing breeze had sprung up, and restored a little of his 
strength. Before he reached the cottage, happily for him, 
he met Joe, ’Liza’s brother, who was much too shy to do 
anything but answer questions. 

“ Is Mr. Vicary at your house still?” 

“Yes, sir — leastways— ” Joe touched his cap and 
stared. 

“ Is he there now?” 

“ No, sir — leastways — ” 

“ Do you know anything about him?” said Hoel, im- 
patiently, not having George Guthrie’s power of getting 
everything and anything out of the rustic mind. 

“ Mr. Vicary was at home ten minutes ago. He just 
did up his things, he did, as he’s going back to Lunnon 
to-night; he’s not coming here again.” 

“ Where is he?” 

“ He was going to Bushbrook House, he said, sir, and 
then would walk on to Greystone. He warn’t coming here 
no more. ” 

“ Then 1 can, perhaps, catch him up,” said Hoel, a 
sudden inexplicable fear seizing him. 

Joe looked Mr. Fenner up and down, and grinned. The 
idea of his catching up Mr. Vicary seemed quite out of the 
question. 

“ He walks fast, he does.” 

“ Thank you,” said Hoel, understanding perfectly, but 
not in a mood to be amused, as he would have been at an- 
other time. He turned at once, and hurried down the hill 
as fast as he could. The forest land had once more be- 
come as it usually was, solitary and silent. Though the 
storm had not come on, yet all the sky was overcast, a gray 
curtain shutting in the beautiful blue. There was an in- 
tense melancholy look even in Nature. It was all in har- 
mony with the deep depression which would seize upon him 
as he hurried on to find Jesse. 

“ We can go back together,” he thought. “ I must set 
about helping him. He has too much power to be allowed 
to lie hidden for long, but how will he take this news, 
poor fellow? I wish I were a hundred miles off; but it’s 
no use thinking of it any longer. By telling him I may 
induce him to be generous. He is generous — a noble- 
hearted fellow at the bottom, till he took the craze. I 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


445 


ought, to have got that out of his head long ago. But he 
would never have believed me without going into the whole 
matter.” 

Suddenly he paused. There were Rushbrook chimneys. 
How beautiful it all looked now. Could he have the cour- 
age to enter that gate again? Yes, he must. Of course 
Mr. Kestell would not be at home, and Jesse might be 
waiting in the study. It was tiresome that he had not 
overtaken him. He reached the road close by the bridge, 
and looked round again. He positively dared not open the 
swing-gate of the drive, but instead he walked on in the 
opposite direction from the Pools, hoping Jesse might come 
out. This road took a turn which hid Rushbrook House 
and then ran by a little dell-like plantation with the mill- 
stream and tall hedge on one side, and oaks and larches on 
the other. 

With sunlight falling aslant, this part of the road was 
lovely; nowit looked gloomy and dull. Hoel agaiu paused 
and looked back. At this instant he heard the sound of a 
vehicle being driven very quickly. He moved on one side, 
hear the steep bank of the stream, and instinctively began 
to walk on. He was afraid now of being recognized. It 
was a dog-cart; he heard there were only two wheels, and 
from force of habit, he glanced quickly at it as it passed 
him. That glance was enough for mutual recognition. It 
was Walter Akister, with a groom by his side. The look 
of fierce hatred that flashed into Akister's eyes was unmis- 
takable, and before Hoel had decided what to do, Walter 
had thrown the reins to the groom, and telling him to 
drive on, he sprung down, and, whip in hand, in a moment 
was by HoePs side. 

“You here again?” he cried, mad with passion. “ I 
wonder you dared to show your face. You are beneath the 
notice of a gentleman, and deserve the treatment of the 
brute. Take that, and that, you blackguard!” 

Hoel had only time, so Quick had been Walter Akister's 
movements, to make a spring forward and try to wrench 
the whip out of his enemy's hand. He failed, and, stung 
with the pain, he closed with Walter, merely, however, in 
self-defense. He could not otherwise have laid a finger on 
him. But, though it has been asserted that “ a certain 
man with a guilty conscience once bore a horsewhipping 
with a due humility,” Hoel did not reach this pitch of 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


446 

perfection. His conscience was self-accusing, certainly, 
but not in the way that Walter imagined. Alas! right 
and might are not synonymous terms. Hoel, was not by 
any means strong enough to cope with Walter, and this 
young man's blood was up. In another moment Walter 
had once more struck him, and in the hand-to-hand strug- 
gle, Hoel was thrown down. As he fell, he struck his head 
against a great way-side mile-stone and for a few minutes 
was dazed by the blow. 

Walter did not even wait to see what happened; he 
merely strode on, and the next turn soon hid him from 
sight. He had, as he fancied, relieved his feelings. In 
truth, he had but raised the devil, and whatever the phrase 
may mean there are but too many proofs that a man may 
be so completely blinded by anger that his actions become 
no longer such as he can control. 

Hoel did not know how long he remained lying on the 
brink of the ditch. When he regained his power of think- 
ing, the blood rushed back to his cheeks as he remembered 
the indignity of his assault. He laid hold of the mile- 
stone, and raised himself up, but he had to rest again be- 
fore framing a plan. His head throbbed painfully, and 
after another interval he walked on a few paces to a spot 
where the stream was easily reached. Here he dipped his 
handkerchief in and bathed his temples. 

It was only at this moment that he recollected his pre- 
vious intention of finding Jesse. He might be too late, for 
this latter might have started already for Greystone. No, 
that was not likely; he would almost certainly have taken 
this road. 

The need for action is the best cure for soothing tumultu- 
ous thought, and Hoel once more turned his steps toward 
Rushbrook. 

He looked at his watch. It was nearly six o’clock. The 
clouds were lower and more threatening, the air was close, 
and to HoeFs mind the sadness of the country seemed 
realized on this evening to its fullest extent. Elva and he 
had one day argued about the disadvantages and advan- 
tages of country life, and Hoel remembered having said 
that on some days and in some conditions of weather, the 
oppressive melancholy of the country beats description. He 
remembered Elva’s very look as she answered that she had 
never experienced oppressive melancholy, only a sadness 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 447 

that was not without a compensating charm. From this 
he had first realized that a woman's mind has naturally 
much of the poet's analyzing power in it, its vibrations are 
more numerous, and therefore more capable of finer per- 
ception. He had rather enjoyed following out this theory, 
but at the time it had not made him put womankind on a 
higher pedestal because of their near relationship to poets; 
on the contrary, fond as Hoel was of all literature as such, 
he did not rank poetry very much higher than prose, and 
for this he could have given very forcible and well-ex- 
plained reasons. - 

How curious that such a small thing as this should come 
into his head now! he thought, when the day had been one 
filled with a great event. How incomprehensible was man's 
mind, both in its power of soaring and its inability to re- 
sist the influence of small things. Pshaw! There he was 
again, wandering on about theories when all his mind ought 
to be centered on what he meant to say to Jesse Vicary. 
That was the important fact of the moment. It was that 
confounded blow that made him so stupid. 

He was in sight again of the swing gate. The gray light 
made it seem more like late evening than the hour war- 
ranted. The road by the Pools was soon lost in the light 
and on account of the overshadowing trees whose green 
had already lost their fresh greenness. 

There wa3 no Vicary in sight. What should he do? 
He passed his thin white hand over his forehead to ease the 
throbbing, and to force himself to be definite. Would 
there be any chance of meeting Mr. Kestell? He, Hoel; 
had nothing to fear from him, for there was no secret be- 
tween them. Besides, was he not coming for his sake? 

Suddenly he swept away all reasoning, walked up to the 
swing gate, and entered the drive. 

How beautiful it all looked! The lawn was the perfection 
of green velvet, the copper beech and the clump of silver 
birch could not but claim admiration in all lights, 
flower-beds were in their prime — all that money could do 
was found here in its best conception. 

But there was a strange stillness about the place. The 
gardeners, who had had a holiday given to them, had natu- 
rally absented themselves after the unfortunate ending of 
the service. The guests had made themselves scarce of 
course, and it appeared that those who had to remain on 


448 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


duty were anxious not to obtrude their presence. So Hoel 
settled. He himself could not walk up 1 he d rive unmoved. 
The strange events that had happened since his last visit 
here had produced too serious consequences to allow him 
to dispel all the miserable recollections that crowded his 
brain. 

Suddenly the stillness was broken by the sound of a foot- 
fall in front of him. He looked up and saw a figure com- 
ing down the steps of the front door. For one instant his 
heart bounded and his pulses throbbed. The figure was 
all in white. He fancied he was going to find himself face 
to face with Elva. Then another glance showed him his 
mistake. It was her sister. 

Amice having made three steps forward, stopped short, 
and gazed fixedly at Hoel. For a moment she had hoped 
he was another, but when she recognized him she did not 
appear surprised. 

She too had seen him in the morning. Mechanically 
Hoel walked straight on till he stood close beside her. 

“Tell me,” he said, without any introduction, “how 
she is. If I knew that I could go away happier. You will 
not believe me, no one will, when I say that now I only 
wish to see her happy.” He spoke very low, and he could 
not prevent himself from imagining all the evil Amice 
must be thinking of him. Her blue penetrating eyes were 
fixed on his face, but their expression made him insensibly 
shudder and remember the strange hints people had thrown 
out as to Amice Kestell being somewhat uncanny. 

“ Elva is very unwell. She is still at the vicarage. 
Oh, it is dreadful, dreadful! Mamma feels it so much, 
but I came back here to find papa. Have you seen him, 
Mr. Fenner?” 

“ No; I suppose he is still at the vicarage.” 

Hoel was much surprised that Amice did not seem to 
regard him in the light of a villain. He remembered their 
interview in the wood. Perhaps, then, she alone was capa- 
ble of believing that he had had a reason, if a wrong one, 
for forsaking Elva. The thought made him feel grateful 
to her. 

He added, with a new tone in his voice: 

“ Amice, for pity’s sake, tell me that 1 had nothing to 
do with that— interruption! Listen: I only wanted to see 
her once again, the wish was too strong to resist. I be- 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOKE. 


449 


lieve if I had been on my death-bed, I should have risen 
and come here to-day. Will she think it another sign of 
my vileness? The idea is unbearable!” 

“ What do your feelings matter?” said Amice, with a 
force that staggered him. “ Don't you know, Mr. Fen- 
ner, that we individuals are nothing, mere nothings, in the 
hand of God; that He works out His ways by oar means, 
that is all? The curse was bound to fall for the sin. He 
deals out justice, but, oh! He is very merciful too, very 
merciful! You know — the cause. Look, because one poor, 
feeble human being can help another, I ask you for your 
help now.” 

Never before had words acted so powerfully on Hoel. 
The very depth of his heart was stirred with pity. Never 
before had he recognized his own nothingness in the great 
world of creation. What, indeed, as Amice said, were his 
feelings? Was he not but one of the million of sufferers 
through sin? Was he not as much in need of mercy as any 
other, and was not his only birthright the power of doing 
good? That power he had never exercised in an appreci- 
able quantity, but instead he had set himself up as a ruler 
and a judge over his fellow. 

At this moment, weak as he was, Hoel Fenner would 
have worn a penance sheet, had Amice bidden him to do 
so. What jf she were, after all, a woman far beyond the 
ordinary level of womankind, a woman who believed with 
a true belief in the retributive justice of God? 

“ Tell me what to do. What is it you fear? By my 
love, my unalterable love for Elva, let me be of use, dear 
Amice!” 

“You forsook us before,” she said, sadly, and Hoel's 
soul was filled with shame. It needed Amice's words to 
bring him to the full consciousness of his cowardice. 

“ Yes, and I have suffered for it.” 

“ I am not blaming you,” she said, sadly, covering her 
eyes. “ It was natural; you know the curse — I have part- 
ly unraveled it, only partly. You know all, help me. Is 
Jesse Vicary to be feared?” 

“Feared? Jesse Vicary, at the bottom, the noblest of 
men — but now he has a craze — a false idea. It was to set 
that right that I came here again. Has he been here? I 
was waiting to see him.” 

“ He has been here, and I have seen him. He was 

15 


450 


KESTELL OF GBEYSTOHE. 


changed. He looked so dreadful! You are a man of the 
world, you do not believe that the devils can do us harm — 
but yet I saw it so plainly. Jesse was not himself. When 
he heard my father had gone out, he was furious with him, 
he frightened me. I do not know why papa broke his 
word; he had promised to meet him here at six o’clock. 
Jesse Vicary came at five minutes before, and papa had 
gone out half an hour before, Jones said so. He left the 
vicarage to see after mamma, he told us. Do you see how 
I am placed? I dare not leave the house, mamma will not 
be left for long, she is so much upset about Elva. I dare 
not go after the others, but, oh! Mr. Fenner, I am so anx- 
ious. Will you follow Vicary? He can not be very far. 
It is not more than five minutes since he left this spot.” 

Hoel was immediately seized with the same dre^d. What 
he had feared might happen. Jesse would perhaps say 
things he might regret all his life from want of knowing 
the truth. 

<C I will follow Vicary at once. Do you think he went 
by the Pools?” 

“ Yes, I know he did. I watched him. But I do not 
know where my father is. Not there, not there, 1 hope; 
but it would comfort me to think you would be on the 
watch.” 

“ I will bring him home,” said Hoel, earnestly, taking 
Amice’s hand, which was icy cold. “ One thing more. If 
you know the truth, promise me to spare Elva.” 

Amice turned her eyes full upon him. 

“ I do not know the whole truth,” she said. 46 No one 
has ever told me. I only know that God’s laws can not be 
broken without the punishment following unto the third 
and fourth generation. But go now; go at once for Elva’s 
sake. ” 

Hoel turned away, and was soon lost to sight when he 
had passed over the bridge. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

BY THE POOLS. 

Hoel was lifted out of himself now. How could he be 
otherwise when he found that a mere girl could be so full 
of courage even when weighed down with a mysterious cer- 
tainty of evil that had to be atoned for? Hoel had often 


KESTELL OF OBEY STONE. 


451 


resisted this doctrine which he looked upon as out of the 
natural order of certainty which ruled the world, but now 
he seemed brought face to face with it and the mantle of 
dread seemed to fall likewise over him, though even now 
he apologized to himself for his unusual superstition. 

Apart from all this, Jesse ought to have been found be- 
fore; why should he relentlessly pursue Mr. Kestell because 
his own brain was clouded by an overmastering idea? But 
how dared he ask any reason why — he who had cowardly 
run away from the problem as if to expiate his past fault. 
Hoel hurried on, forgetting all his previous suffering. He 
noted as he passed along the broken reflections on the 
troubled water, the grasses and flags that turned their 
whiter sides as they bent before the wind, the broken-off 
twigs and leaves that floated or gyrated on the water. Hoel 
noted all this because his eyes looked here and there ex- 
pecting to see Jesse leaning against some tree watching for 
the return of the master of Bushbrook. 

But the first Pool was silent except for the thousand 
voices of nature, for the splash of the moor-hen as she 
scuttled along by the reedy margin, for the sudden darting 
out of her hiding-place of some other bird, or the scamper 
of a red squirrel. To Hoel all this was only silence, for he 
had as yet learned to recognize the signs of man alone, not 
those of nature. 

He paused at the head of the Pool, uncertain what to do. 
He feared to miss what he sought for, not being sure Jesse 
was here. He who knew every turn and twist, every tiny 
path and track, was not very likely to be walking demurely 
up and down the road. After a brief debate with himself 
Hoel settled he would go beyond the second Pool as far as 
where the road branched off to the Tarn. Here he must 
of necessity wait, as, from one or other of these roads, Mr, 
Kestell or Jesse were sure to return home. 

There was an interval before the second Pool was reached 
— a small stream connected the two — a bridge and a road 
ran in a transverse direction here, but the road only led to 
Court Garden. 

On reaching the second Pool Hoel was somewhat puz- 
zled. After this the road was not so close to the water, 
and there was in some parts a copse-like portion of land 
bordering the Pool. 

All these trees added to the gathering gloom; and Hoel^ 


m 


KESTELL OE GKEYSTONE. 


again pausing to listen, felt an unusual shrinking from pene- 
trating further down this special bit of road; still he had not 
yet reached the spot where the turn came leading to the 
Home Farm, and he had settled himself to go as far as that. 
He began walking slowly on again, his pulses throbbed pain- 
fully, throbbed all the more because he tried to force him- 
self to be calm; it was merely, he said, that blow on his 
temple that had unnerved him, that, and all he had gone 
through. But the past must be forgotten, the making up 
his mind about Jesse Vicary was the closing scene, after 
that — the deluge of the commonplace in which many a 
man has voluntarily drowned himself after life’s fitful 
fever had brought down his hopes to zero. 

There was a sound on his left hand, a crashing of smaller 
branches, the swish of those that bounded back to their 
original position, and in another moment Jesse Vicary, the 
man he was looking for, stood before him. Now Hoel had 
come here to find him and was expecting him, but in spite 
of this he was utterly taken by surprise and drew back a 
step. Jesse was taller, broader than Hoel. The old con- 
sciousness of being in a kind of way commanded by him, 
asserted itself at once as of old; this time an attempt to 
resist the influence because of its unsuitableness did not ac- 
company the feeling. 

Jesse had the green background behind him, and the lit- 
tle light that fell aslant from above the trees scarcely 
served to show his expression, but the little of it Hoel 
noticed made him at once understand Amice’s fear. 

“ I waslyingdown here close by the water,” began Jesse, 
as if this were quite the most natural statement he could 
-make, “ and 1 saw him, I feel sure I saw him, at the upper 
end of the Pool. You know, Mr. Fenner, where the 
ground slopes to the water’s edge. He never thought I 
should be waiting for him here; he fancied he would escape 
me again; but no, now it is impossible. Come with me if 
you will, and be a witness. You at least know that I have 
borne it all long enough in silence. But perhaps you can 
condone it. I do not want your presence.” 

He turned sharply round and strode on toward the head 
of the Pool, which, though visible close to the water where 
Jesse had been lying, was not so from' this part of the road. 

“ Vicary, stop! stop, for God’s sake!” cried Hoel, start- 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


453 


ing forward to try and overtake him. “ You are mad! 
you are — ” 

But Joe had been right; it was impossible for Hoel — cer- 
tainly in his present condition — to overtake the country- 
bred Jesse. He gave it up and walked as quickly as was 
possible after him. 

“The fellow is mad! He will insult Mr. Kestell; he 
will — Bool that I have been not to have taken measures 
sooner!” 

A dreadful fear seized him that Jesse, in his evidently 
overtaxed condition, would be tempted to lay hands on the 
old man; but no, surely that was impossible — at the bot- 
tom this fellow was a gentleman; he would not attack a 
defenseless old man. The bare idea, however, induced him 
to try to run, but this made his head reel; he relapsed into 
a quick walk till at last he turned the bend and stood in 
sight of the upper portion of the Pool — for here the copse 
ceased, and only stony and broken ground sloped gently 
toward the water. 

A rapid glance showed him something unexpected. The 
light was clearer here; no trees intercepted the dull gray 
sky except the hilly ground on either side, but just above 
the Pool on the opposite side the slender larch-trees were 
swayed by the wind and looked like nodding plumes, while 
through the taller fir-trees swept the long sobbing moan 
peculiar to these trees. Hoel saw all this as one sees the 
background of a striking picture. On the bank was the 
figure of Mr. Kestell. He was half supporting his head on 
the serpent-like roots of a solitary fir-tree and half on a 
gray bowlder. That was all Hoel saw except that Jesse 
Vicary, standing within a few feet of Mr. Kestell, suddenly 
strode back and met Hoel. 

He seized his arm. 

“ He is there — there — and he is ill; come and do some- 
thing for him. How can 1, with — with the thoughts in my 
heart — make haste!” 

“ He has fallen,” stammered Hoel, obeying the strong 
grasp; “ see that big bowlder, Vicary. We must lift him 
up and carry him home.” 

I — I — touch him!” said Jesse, in a hoarse voice. 
“ Carry him! I wanted — ” 

A sudden idea flashed into HoePs brain-- a mad idea. 
For a few minutes he had not had Jesse in sight, in that 


454 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


time had he — ? He shook off Jesse’s hand as if it burned 
him. 

“ Why did you not raise him up before?” he gasped out. 

“ I have only this moment gone near enough/’ said 
Jesse. “ 1 have been dazed, I think; for several minutes 
1 could not approach. It was because — Oh, Mr. Fenner, 
all the words I wanted to say were burning my heart and 
brain, and then I saw he could not hear them. 1 think I 
lost my senses for a moment.” 

They were close by him now; but it was Hoel who 
walked up close to the prostrate man, and, kneeling down, 
called him by name. 

“ Mr. Kestell, are you much hurt?” 

There was no answer. 

“ Vicary,” said Hoel, in an angry, passionate voice, 
“ come here! Can’t you be a man at least, and help me to 
lift him? I have been ill and have very little strength left. ” 

“1 — I lift him?” said Jesse, still in a dazed voice, 
though he came a step nearer. “ Those words are still 
ringing in my brain. 1 wanted him to give me justice, 
bare justice, that was all. You would have been witness.” 

“ Fool!” muttered Hoel, “help me to lift him, I tell 
you; or, better, see, didn’t I tell you so, he slipped and 
has cut his head; see here is the blood on the stone. Eun 
and dip this handkerchief in the water; perhaps he had 
better lie flat till he recovers consciousness.” 

Jesse obeyed, and Hoel nervously undid the old man’s 
neck-tie and tried to feel the pulse of the chill left hand. 

“Oh, God! Elva!” said Hoel. “But he is not alone 
now; we are here — that was providential — we must carry 
him home; he will recover from this faint in a moment.” 

Jesse now returned with the soaked handkerchief and 
another supply in his hat. Hoel took the handkerchief, 
but rejected the other. 

“ No, this is enough; he is very cold, but he is only in a 
faint, 1 am sure of it. 1 am a little of a doctor; his pulse 
is feeble, but — but — ” Hoel paused; he passed the wet 
handkerchief gently over the forehead, across which one 
lock of gray hair had been blown by the wind. There was 
no sign of recovery. Hoel rose from his cramped position, 
and as he began taking off his coat, he faced Jesse, who 
stood by, horror-struck and pale, still holding his hat 
through which the water slowly permeated. 


KESTELL OF GUEYSTONE. 


455 


44 Look here, Vicary, we must do something. If he hit 
himself severely the injury may be greater than we think. 

I know this man is your enemy; but what is the use of 
your religion if it does not make you forgive!” 

44 I can forgive my enemy,” said Jesse, 44 but not my — ” 

Hoel interrupted him. 

44 This is no time for explanation; it is a case, or it may 
be, a case of life and death. Mr. Kestell has injured you, 
Jesse, deeply injured you, but, I swear it, not as you think 
— far worse; still, I thought Christianity— ” , 

44 Far worse? How?” said Jesse, hoarsely. 44 Tell me 
what can be worse?” 

Hoel made a pillow of his coat and laid it very gently 
under Mr. Kestell’s head as he answered, looking round to 
see that they were alone. 

44 1 tell you this is not the time for the truth. I was wait- 
ing about Eushbrook to tell you, but you have no pity; you 
will — What matter now, who will listen to you? Mr. Kes- 
tell defrauded you when you were children.” 

44 Of what?” Jesse, pale as the pale form lying before 
him, sunk down on his knees. 44 Mr. Fenner, for pityV 
sake, tell me the truth! — of what? of our rights to carry 
his—” 

44 Nonsense! Of what would have made you independent 
of every one — of your money — of your father’s name?” 

44 My father’s name? It was surely, yes — why should 1 
not say it even here, though he is unconscious — my father’s 
name was Kestell of Greystone. ” 

44 Jesse, you are going mad! My poor fellow, quick! 
take his hand and warm it! Leave the explanation, leave it 
all till afterward. But if you will have it then, it was no 
such thing; your father’s name was John Pellew, my 
cousin — ” 

44 And my mother?” 

44 Was his wife. But it was all the same as far as poor 
John went. Had he lived he would have owned you even 
if — But — I — It was all right. Gently! Is it getting 
warm? Oh, God! oh, God! forgive him! Jesse, think of his 
wife and children, and how he loved them. ” 

Jesse was indeed warming the cold white hand in his; 
nay, more, he bowed himself low over it, and suddenly 
sobbed like a child. 

“ Mr. Fenner, why did he not tell me this? Was it only 


456 


KESTELL OE GREY STOKE. 


that — of my money — money — only that? — he might have 
had it all — all. 1 would have given him every penny to 
have been spared these months and these thoughts. Tell 
me, is this my punishment— -is this an accident? Am I — 
merciful God! sp&re me! am I his murderer?” 

“ Hush, hush! Jesse, be a man! We must act now,” 
said Hoel, deeply moved, but horrified at the last sentence; 
he knew it echoed a faint thought in his own mind, a 
thought he resolved should never be disclosed to any one. 
“And look here: if you forgive, do further — spare those 
he loved — say nothing.” 

“ If I forgive?” said poor Jesse. “ Tell me what to do; 
he must live to forgive me. I accused him of this base 
thing. Aye, he did love his wife, I know it, but I was mad. 
Tell me, if you are weak, I have strength enough left. I 
will carry him home single-handed.” 

He tried to put his arm under the white head without 
disturbing him too much. 

“ Wait. 1 remember now; idiot that I am, 1 had forgot- 
ten! I have a flask of brandy. So put your arm under 
his head while I pour down a few drops.” 

Once more Hoel stocd up; and it was now Jesse who 
made his arm the resting-place of that venerable-looking 
head while the former undid his flask and poured some of 
the brandy into the silver cup. As he did so he trod on 
something which caused him to trip. He looked down in- 
stinctively, then quickly stooped and picked up something 
which he slipped in his pocket. 

It was done so quickly that even Jesse did not notice it; 
he was looking at Mr. Kestelks face. 

“ Have I lifted him enough? Give it to him slowly, 
Mr. Fenner; he is getting very cold. 1 will put my coat 
over him directly you have given him the brandy. Say 
there is hope. ” 

Jesse was pleading like a child for the verdict. 

Hoel did not answer; he hastily poured the brandy down, 
and to his relief Mr. Kestell opened his eyes and seemed to 
rouse himself from the state of coma he had appeared to 
be sinking into. His eyes at once rested upon Jesse, who 
was still chafing the clammy, cold hand, and he was cer- 
tainly able to recognize him for a look of intense pain 
passed over his face and he tried to speak. 

“ Forgive me! forgive me!” cried Jesse. 


“ I have 


KESTELL OF GKEY STONE. 


457 


wronged yon deeply! If you were afraid of what 1 might 
think about that other thing — that money — you were mis- 
taken; whatever it was, Mr. Kestell, it is yours, yours; 
never mention it again; only you must live. Think of 
those who love you! Can you hear me, sir, can you under- 
stand?” 

“Hush, Jesse, we must do something at once,” said 
Hoel, in a strained voice. “We must take Mr. Kestell 
home.” 

Mr. Kestell could evidently understand, for a strange 
surprised expression came over his face; he feebly raised 
his right hand and tried to find something in his pocket. 

“ He wants to say something,” said Jesse. “ Mr. Fen- 
ner, help him!” 

Hoel did so. His pocket contained two letters, one 
directed to J. Vicary, and the other a blue envelope on 
which was written “My last will. To be given to J. 
Vicary.” 

Mr. Kestell fixed his eye on Jesse. 

“ Is he to have this letter— and this?” asked Hoel. 

The old man’s face expressed unutterable relief, his lips 
moved. Jesse bent down toward him and listened. 

“Forgive,” the word was more framed than uttered — 
then another effort, his strength seemed to be sinking. 
“ Restitution!” 

Before the words were finished the eyes closed and he 
was seized with a slight convulsion which contracted the 
lower limbs. 

“ Jesse, quick! we must not lose another moment. We 
must carry him home; we must summon medical aid at 
once. It is not far, there may be time to save him.” 

“ To save him?” said Jesse, bewildered. 

They lifted him between them, and happily Jesse’s 
superior height and strength now told, otherwise Hoel 
unaided could never have carried Mr. Kestell even this 
short distance. 

The gray clouds seemed closer to earth now, for the 
evening had drawn in before its time. The gusts of wind 
swept up the valley more frequently, and as he was borne 
along, the gray hair of the sick man was now and then 
blown hither and thither. 

“ If only we can get in unobserved,” murmured Hoel, 
thinking of Amice on the watch for him. “ It will be a ter- 


458 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOtfE. 


rible shock for his family to see him brought home in this 
state. ” 

As it happened, when they reached Rushbrook no one 
was about; the house looked desolate, forsaken, as, passing 
across the bridge, they entered the drive. No Amice was 
on the steps, no servants were about in the hall. 

“It is best so,” said Hoel. “ This way, Jesse; come 
and lay him in the ..drawing-room while 1 run and tell 
Jones.” 

They laid him gently down on the sofa, and then Hoel went 
off to send a man on horseback to Greystone for Dr. Pink, 
and another to the vicarage in case he might be there, and 
Jesse was left alone with Mr. Kestell. He did all he could 
think of to restore animation, but nothing availed, and at 
last he started again to his feet to see if he could find any 
restorative near at hand, when a side door gently opened 
and Amice’s voice rang out clearly and terribly: 

“Papa! papa!” 

This time it was no vision. Her father lay there with 
one hand hanging down and with ashy face and closed eyes. 
Almost at the same moment J ones and some more terrified 
servants ran in followed by Hoel. 

The latter went up to her at once. 

“ Amice, this is no place for you; go to your mother 
and tell her your father is ill. Doctor Pink has been sent 
for. ” 

“ It has come at last,” she said. “ What can we do?” 

He led her away and returned to the sofa. In his agony 
of remorse, which was all the more terrible because it was 
now silent, Jesse, kneeling on the floor, was holding the 
master of Rushbrook House in his arms. 

When Hoel came up he noticed a great change; then 
came another convulsion that shook the whole frame as if 
it were a wind-moved aspen leaf before its final separation 
from the parent stem. 

Then Hoel knelt down too and listened: he felt the 
pulse, fetched a small ornamental mirror from the table — 
on which Elva had once painted a piece of yew with its red 
berries — and held it to Mr. KestelFs lips. No blur of 
slightest breath dimmed the bright surface. Hoel knew it 
was all over. 

“ The effect was terribly swift — but painless,” he said to 
himself. “ It is over; the truth cannot help anyone now. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


450 


If Pink does not find it oat it shall remain a secret. Man’s 
judgment, even on himself, is less merciful than God’s. If 
he had only waited and told Jesse the truth; if — And 
now — Poor Efva! my poor darling! — am I, even I, guilt- 
less of this?” 

The door opened and Dr. Pink entered. He took im- 
mediate steps to restore animation. “ In suspended action 
of the heart/’ he said, “ even when life appears extinct, 
hope must not be given up.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE TENSION OYER. 

Elya lay motionless in the darkened spare room at the 
vicarage. Dr. Pink had administered a sleeping draught, 
but it had not had the desired effect on her overstrained 
nerves. On coming to herself she had refused to see any 
one, even her father; she only begged to be left entirely 
alone till she must return home. 

As she lay there her mind gradually took in a truer view 
of her actions. She felt keenly how the world would speak 
of her, how she would be scorned, and how Walter would 
be pitied; but now she had once said no she was resolved 
that nothing would again make her say yes. Frightened 
and crushed as she was, she yet sighed with a feeling of 
great relief. Her heart bounded with the thought that she 
was free, free of that black nightmare. How could she 
have been so* weak before, even for her father’s sake? 

The human mind is so infinitely complex that it will try 
to deceive itself even when such a deceit seems childish. 
For instance, deep down in her heart Elva knew it was the 
sight of Hoel that had worked this new strength in her. 
She told herself it was no such thing, that he was nothing 
to her now, and never could be; that his conduct had been 
base and cowardly, inexplicable, and that now no explana- 
tion could replace him in her estimation; but all the same 
it was the sight of his pleading face that had made her say 
“No!” 

“ Passing the love of woman,” says Holy Writ; but this 
woman’s love seemed part of her very nature; the winds 
and the sunshine of the moors had woven it into her very 
being, and in trying to go against her nature she had tried 
to do the impossible. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTCWE. 


4H0 

As she lay there she thought too of her father; she had 
not dared see him; she feared to witness his disappoint- 
ment, but she also felt sure that the next morning she 
would go to him and lay her cheek against his and beg for 
his forgiveness. He had never in all her life used a hard 
word toward her, he would not do so now when others 
would be speaking of her with scorn. Yet Elva shrunk 
from this scorn even here in this darkened room; she was 
her father’s daughter in that. It seemed so impossible to 
be called dishonorable, and yet would not the whole neigh- 
borhood cut her for this conduct? 

4 4 Papa will protect me,” she thought, raising herself 
up, for sleep would not come; 44 it was for his sake I tried 
to marry Walter, and surely he will tell people that. 
Amice too will be good to me; Amice, who has always 
chosen the better way; she would have done right at once 
and would never have got herself into this difficulty. Dear 
George Guthrie, even he tried to warn me. How can I face 
them all again? It is dreadful!” 

As she sat up she heard steps hurrying outside her door 
— the tread of many feet. How strange! She had begged 
to be left quiet. She looked toward the door and listened 
again. It was Mr. Heaton’s voice and George Guthrie’s, 
and Miss Heaton was answering their remarks. Was any- 
thing the matter? She gazed round the room and saw 
nothing but white drapery. Her wedding-dress had been 
taken off, and she was lying wrapped up in Miss Heaton’s 
dressing-gown, which was much too small for her. Sud- 
denly the door opened and Miss Heaton entered; but Elva 
was conscious the two men remained close by. 

44 Elva, my dear, I am sorry to disturb you; but Herbert 
and Mr. Guthrie think that — ” 

44 What?” said Elva, starting up and getting off the 
bed. 

44 That you ought to know. It is quite against my wish, 
for I think a quiet time for reflection would be the best 
thing for you in your present excited state; but — ” 

44 Say it at once,” said Elva, beginning to tremble, she 
knew not why. 

44 Elva, come down at once,” George called out. 44 Your 
father is ill; I know it is kinder to telP-you are wanted.” 

44 Papa!” she gasped. 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 461 

“ How can she come? She has no dress. Will you have 
one of mine?” 

“Thank you, but 1 could not get into it. No dress! 
Why, this one will do, of course. Thank you, dear George; 
I shall not be a minute; wait for me — you will come too?” 

Utterly regardless of Miss Heaton's shocked feelings, 
Elva hurried into her wedding-gown regardless of anything 
that might be said. 

“ What will people think to see you in that gown?” 

“ People! I have done caring for them. Papa is ill; he 
wants me. Will he care whether I am in white or black?” 

She seized her long white veil and twisted it round her 
head. 

“Elva! impossible! At least, remember — I will fetch 
my largest cloak and a bonnet.” 

But Elva never waited for Miss Heaton’s return. Her 
strength had returned as she hurried into the passage and 
met George in the hall. 

“ Mr. Heaton’s pony-carriage is at the door,” said 
George, even at this moment struck with the beauty of 
this white-robed woman who was suddenly forced by this 
new anxiety to forget herself. 

“Thank you. Quick, George! A cloak — here is Miss 
Heaton. Never mind a bonnet, I will put this hood on. 
Please drive quickly! Tell me, what is the matter?” 

“ 1 don’t know. An attack-breathlessness.” 

“ Oh, George! was it — that?” 

She meant was her wedding the cause of the illness. 

“ Oh, no; he was all right two hours ago. I saw him 
walk off briskly toward .Rushbrook. The groom said 
something about an accident near the Pools. He was 
brought home. ” 

“ Accident! Impossible! Who brought him home?” 

George coughed, then spoke the truth, thinking: “ It 
will shame the devil if it does nothing else.” “ Hoel Fen- 
ner and Jesse Vicary.” 

No other word was spoken till Elva reached home. The 
doors were open, the chill wind swept into the beautiful 
hall without let or hinderance; there were two dog-carts 
waiting a little way off. One was Dr. Pink’s, the other 
was the one that had come from Greystone. It was only 
when George Guthrie came to insist that Elva had been 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


-465 

'disturbed, "Miss Heaton not choosing to tell her before, and 
‘indeed not guessing the importance of the case. 

Elva hurried up the steps, threw off her cloak in the 
hall, and without further preparation passed through the 
first drawing-room, where she saw a few frightened servants 
whispering together. 

They did not dare to stop her; and besides, her appear- 
ance all in white was startling. She looked like an angel 
suddenly sweeping through them — the Angel of Death. 

She opened the door and saw confusedly several persons. 
She knew some one said: “ Don't go on." She shook off 
another hand that was laid on her arm, and walked boldly 
forward, tall and beautiful and strong in purpose. 

“ Papa — where is he?" 

There was no help for it. They made a little way for 
her, and she saw — saw her father lying on the sofa just as 
Amice had seen him, except that his hands were now 
crossed, over his chest, his eyes were closed, his white hair 
hung over his black coat, in the button-hole of which was 
still pinned a bit of orange-blossom, pinned in by Elva that 
morning. 

“ Papa!" she cried; and, never dreaming how strange 
she looked in her white gown, she flung lierself on her 
knees, wound her arms round him and kissed him. She 
drew back startled. She kissed a cheek that was as cold as 
marble. 

She slowly unwound her arms, for death naturally horri- 
fies youth. She knew this was death, though no one told 
her; but she did not move away; on the contrary, she put 
her hands on the cold, motionless ones that would never 
again fondle her. Her heart seemed to die within her, her 
whole brain was filled with the idea: 6 4 Have I killed him? 
Did he grieve so very much about it? Is this death? No, 
no, it can not be!" 

She turned round suddenly and gazed at the people near 
her. There was Dr. Pink close beside her, and Jones, a 
little was off, was standing as if waiting for an order, and 
the housekeeper was crying audibly; and then behind them 
on one side stood Hoel, and in the window-seat Jesse sat 
crouched up with his head buried in his hands, apparently 
hearing and seeing nothing of this scene. 

All at once Elva's eyes fixed themselves on Hoel, and she 
went quickly toward him. He had expected some sign of 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 


463 


recognition, some tone of voice to remind him of the past; 
but from her manner to him he might have been a mere 
stranger. 

“ They say you were with him, Mr. Fenner, when he 
was taken ill; tell me everything about it. It may help 
Doctor Pink. Why do they not do something more for 
him? Nobody is trying to restore him. Tell me what 
to do!” 

Hoel longed to comfort her, longed to have the right to 
lead her away and speak words of love to her, but he could 
not; he was nothing to her, only a mere stranger, and she 
was interested in him only as being the man who was with 
her father. 

It might have been far otherwise, and this “ might have 
been 55 awed him strangely. 

“We can none of us do more for him/ 5 he said, sadly, 
not daring to return her look, and his eyes resting on her 
arm saw a dull red stain on her white dress. It was where 
her fathers head had rested. 

“He has not been conscious since my arrival/ 5 added 
Dr. Pink. “He can not have suffered much. 1 have 
feared something of this sort if he did not take more care. 
Will you break it to your mother? Believe me, Mr. Fen- 
ner and Mr. Vicary did all that men could do — they 
brought him home. 55 

“ Go to your mother, Elva/ 5 said George Guthrie, com- 
ing up; he feared that if she stayed she would not be able 
to bear the strain longer. He put his arm round her and 
led her away; he did what Hoel would have given all he 
had to do. 

At the head of the stairs they met Amice. No one had 
told her yet that the end had come, but she seemed to 
know at once, by the look on their faces, that all was over. 

“ My poor Elva/ 5 said Amice, clinging to her. She 
could say no more, and Elva had no tears to shed. 

“ We must tell mamma/ 5 said Elva; “ she has nothing 
to reproach herself with — nothing. 55 

“ Neither have you, Elva. It was the — 55 She saw 
George and did not finish. She was going to say “ The 
curse. 55 

“ George, will you stay here? 55 said Elva; “ you will be 
a help to us. And if any one else has to stay, will you ask 
them and take it into your own hands. We must think 


464 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


only of mamma; that is what he would like best. Oh, 
George, no one knows what he was to me. Is it true, or 
only a dreadful dream ?” 

She did not wait for the answer, and she and Amice softly 
entered Mrs. KestelPs room. 

George Guthrie did indeed act the part of a brother. 
He was thunder-struck by the events of the day; but some 
one had to take the lead in the household, and George was 
that some one. He knew that Hoel Fenner and Vicary 
would be wanted at the inquest. Of course Dr. Pink, hav- 
ing attended him for some months, this would be a mere 
formal affair. Still all this must be kept as much as possi- 
ble from the poor widow and children. Even in his con- 
sternation George Guthrie was a little amused at the pres- 
ence of Hoel. 

“ Where is he to go? How am 1 to house an outlaw? 
and yet he canT stay here. I never was put in such a pre- 
dicament before. Elva is half married, and Hoel Fenner 
has come back. What the dickens does it all mean? 
Curiosity is womanish; but I should like to know the ex- 
planation of that mysterious disappearance. Poor Mr. 
Kestell, he was too much cut up at Elva’s second failure. 
However, we must all die; and he w T as ready for it, and his 
money is safe enough. All left to his wife for her life, I 
suppose. My cousin is sure to ask sadly about the will. 
Death means money to her.” 

George smiled to himself as he went to consult Dr. Pink 
and to see that all was kept quiet in the melancholy house. 
As to Hoel Fenner he and Jesse Vicary walked sadly away 
to Greystone, promising to come back in the morning. 

That evening the two were alone in the little quiet sit- 
ting-room which Hoel had learned only to hate. He in- 
sisted on Jesse staying with him for he was afraid of leav- 
ing him alone, so utterly miserable was he. Hoel had to 
learn to put his own grief away in order to comfort the 
poor fellow, but he understood illness now after his long 
convalescence, and he could see that unless great care was 
taken of Jesse he might really succumb to the mental 
anxiety he had gone through. 

It was the first taste of doing something for another, 
the first attempt to give the cup of cold water for the sake 
of something higher than his own pleasure; but it was not 
an easy task to comfort Jesse. He would not be comfort- 


KESTELL OE GREY STONE. 


465 


ed; the horror of that sight and of the revelation was too 
powerful to be put away even for an instant. 

64 Jesse, you must not look at it in this way. We have all 
been to blame — terribly to blame; even now I am bewil- 
dered. I do not know how to act. But remember, he 
gave you that letter; will you not read it? He evidently 
much wished you to do so. ” 

Jesse drew out the letter and the large envelope from his 
pocket, then he opened the will, which was not closed. It 
was written in Mr. KestelPs own handwriting, and was 
witnessed by two names. One was the Greystone lawyer, 
and the other was Jones. It had been signed and witnessed 
on this very morning. 

Jesse handed it to Hoel. 

4 4 Tell me why he wanted me to read it,” he said. 

Hoel cast his eyes over it. 

44 He leaves a third, of his property to his wife and to his 
daughters after her, the other two thirds he leaves to you 
in restitution.” 

44 And the letter? Bead it to me if you please. I can 
not see the writing.” 

Hoel opened the sheet of paper and read the letter. To 
them both it w r as as if the dying man were uttering the 
words. 

Jesse listened with bent head, his hands supporting it, 
his elbows resting on his knees. Every now and then he 
shuddered as if a cold blast were shaking him- The his- 
tory of his birth was now told to him, the mystery of his 
life revealed to him, and yet he listened as if it were the 
story of some other life not connected with himself. 

I write this letter at midnight on the 13th of May, and 
I wish to declare that I am fully conscious of the impor- 
tance of the facts related in it, and that in consequence 1 
have drawn up a new will on this same evening, and as far 
as 1 am able I have in it made what restitution is possible. 

4 4 1 wish to spare those 1 love and who love me all the 
pain that this declaration would give them if 1 made it 
publicly; but if circumstances force you, Jesse Pellew, to 
reveal the facts, 1 hope the blow will be made to fall as 
lightly as possible on my innocent wife and children, who 
are quite ignorant of the events I must relate. 


466 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


“ Before I married I was a hard-working young man 
with fair j)rospects-— for 1 knew that through my exertions 
the old business was much improved — but when 1 proposed 
to Lord Ovenden for the hand of his daughter Celia, he 
thought that my means were not adequate for his daugh- 
ter’s position. I promised him she should never want for 
all solid comforts; 1 promised him also that 1 should grow 
rich, and that nothing could daunt me. I loved his daugh- 
ter truly, passionately, and it was from pure love that I 
married her and not to improve my standing in the county. 
Besides, the Kestells were a good family, and at last I over- 
came the doubts of Lord Ovenden and obtained his consent 
to our marriage. Nothing remained but to set about ful- 
filling my promise of one day becoming a rich man. 

“ At that time among my friends I reckoned John Pel- 
lew. He was a young man whose very qualities had led 
him into trouble, for he was generous, willful, and some- 
times obstinate. He had been sent to India and was doing 
well there when he had to come home invalided. His 
parents thought this a good opportunity to make up a 
match between him and a young lady of some fortune. 
Unfortunately, while staying with me, John Pellew, in his 
usual hasty manner, had fallen in love with a village girl of 
great beauty, and before he had really faced all the conse- 
quences he had promised to marry her. All this he of 
course kept to himself till there was no way out of the 
difficulty. He utterly refused the marriage arranged for 
him, offended his family, and at last went back to India to 
make his own fortune. It was only just before sailing that 
he confided to me the secret of his marriage with Lucy 
Vicary, begging me to do what I could to befriend her, 
but saying he dared not allow her to take his name because 
of his family, who, he was sure, would never receive her. 
He also gave me all the ready money he had, which was, 
poor fellow, never very much, and also told me that he had 
invested four hundred pounds in a piece of land which a 
certain Button wished to sell, being very hard up, and 
which John Pellew, who was always doing something gen- 
erous at the expense of his own interest or that of his 
friends, agreed to buy. 

“ This land, said he, was to be his child *s inheritance, 
for his wife was expecting her confinement in a few 
months. Further, he made me promise not to reveal his 


KESTELL OF GREYSTOtfE. 46 ? 

secret till such a time as he should himself come home and 
openly acknowledge his wife. 

“ I tried to point out to him the foolishness of his con- 
duct, but as the deed was done I promised to keep his 
secret, accepted his title-deeds for, as I thought, a worth- 
less bit of land, and bade him good-bye. 

“ At this time my own affairs fully occupied my mind, 
still I did what I could for the poor girl whom he had left 
to bear the brunt of life’s hardships. Her mother was 
angry at her marriage, but had understood very little 
about it, except that marrying a gentleman meant receiv- 
ing very little money. The old clergyman who had mar- 
ried them was almost childish, and the neighbors taunted 
her with letting her daughter wed an adventurer who, 
most likely, had a wife somewhere else, as he was so mys- 
terious. 

fcC I did my best to smooth their difficulties, made them 
remove from the distant forest village to a cottage on the 
Beacon, but as the money John Pellew left was soon spent 
I sent them as much as 1 could, for the poor young thing 
drooped directly her husband was gone, and spent her time 
in fretting. 

“ I was then expecting my first child, and my sympathy 
was therefore called out toward John’s unhappy wife, and 
before her twins were born I did not let her want for any- 
thing, but I then seriously began thinking of writing to 
John and telling him plainly that 1 could not afford to 
keep his wife, that the land must be sold, and that I would 
set about finding a purchaser, though 1 doubted whether he 
would get back his four hundred pounds. 

“ Before I had put this resolution into effect came the 
news of the sudden death of John Pellew from fever, and 
with his death the wretched secret seemed to be buried, ex- 
cept so far as 1 was concerned. 

“ I was hesitating what course to pursue when Lucy’s 
twins were born and she died two days after, happily con- 
fiding them to my care, as she believed what her husband 
had told her about their inheritance, as he called his poor 
little property. 

“ It was at this time that the events happened which 
tempted me to the sin which has ever since hung its deadly 
weight round my neck. 1 can hardly write down exactly 
the chain of events, they were so mixed and so inter- 


468 


KESTELTi OF GREYSTOKE. 


twined. I always meant to do right and always saw some 
loop-hole which would make everything straight, but I do 
not remember the exact moment when I felt that it was 
impossible for me to draw back or to begin again. 

“ The grandmother died soon after her daughter, but 
before her death I learned that John Pellew’s bit of land 
was valuable — nay, more, that it would make the fortune 
of any man who owned it. For once in his life John had 
fallen in luck’s way, poor fellow! but only when it was too 
late for him to enjoy it. I had spent a good deal of money 
on his wife out of my own pocket, and trying to forget the 
lately acquired knowledge that the property was valuable, 
I said that I would become the purchaser of Pellew’s bit of 
land. All the four hundred pounds should be spent on his 
children; as for the rest, I had promised solemnly not 
to reveal their name till he gave me leave; I would keep 
that promise. 

“ As I said before, all this was gradually reasoned out, 
and I always reserved to myself the right of making every- 
thing straight, till at last I recognized that that right had 
passed from me, so that 1 could but go on hiding the truth. 

“ I always lived in dread of these things: The discovery 
of John Pellew’s marriage, the discovery of the real 
ownership of his land, and therefore the loss of my own 
fortune. 

“ That land seemed to be a perfect treasure-trove; the 
mines on it yielded enormous profits, and yet I argued that 
they were legally mine, for I had spent money on the wife 
and children before 1 knew the worth of the land; then 
was it not perfectly in my right to sell the land and repay 
myself? That was all I had done. How easy it is to argue 
to one’s self! Again, I said, even if John Pellew had kept 
his land, he would not have had money enough to work it. 
It was my money that unlocked the treasure- trove, and do 
we not see in every-day life that the original possessor or 
inventor has to go to the wall? 

“ Joe Button, the son of the man who had sold it to 
John Pellew, was another source of disquiet to me; he, 
poor fellow, had no earthly claim, and yet he never could 
get it out of his head that he ought to share some of the 
wealth I got from it. 

“ For fear of his setting others to inquire, I pensioned 
him. 


KESTELL OF GREY STOKE. 


469 


44 The rest yon, John Jesse Pellew, know for yourself. 
I need not recapitulate. You accused me of a crime I 
never committed, but I was not less guilty toward you. 
To have contradicted you would have been to have caused 
you to make further inquiries. I preferred writing this 
confession, and leaving you to decide in what manner you 
will require restitution at my hands. My last will shall be 
placed in your hands with this letter. May you deal mer- 
cifully with those who are infinitely dear to me, and for 
whose sake I have borne a long martyrdom, even as you 
look for mercy before an all-knowing Judge. 

66 Remember, a man’s conscience is more powerful than 
a man’s will. He may be condemned by the one, and yet 
be unable to face the consequence of acting under the dicta- 
tion of the other. To trifle with your will is to kill it. 
Use this letter as you think best. 

“ Josiah Kestell, 

4 4 Rushbrook House . 

“To J. J. Pellew, Esq.” 

Hoel folded up the letter, and in deep silence he put it 
back into the envelope. 

“ It was my conduct brought him to this end!” said 
Jesse, raising his head. 44 How can I ever forgive myself? 
What will gold do for me, Mr. Fenner? Do you see what 
he says about the conscience and the will? I would not 
accept what I fancied was God’s and man’s injustice to- 
ward me, and so — so — he allowed me to lose all control of 
my will. How am I better than Mr. Kestell, who has 
written this confession, while 1 shall never be able to con- 
fess my share of to-day’s sad business?” 

“Jesse, don’t, I entreat you, accuse yourself! To go 
back to the root of the matter, it was my silence that urged 
you on. I found out John Pellew ’s marriage, and putting 
things together, I unraveled the mystery; and yet, because 
of my abominable self-love, and also, 1 hope, my love for 
Miss Kestell, I dared not face the disgrace nor bring it 
upon them. Mr. Kestell was, 1 am sure, aware of my rea- 
sons; he must have despised me. Even he could judge my 
conduct; 1 ought to have told you the truth, but I dared 
not. And now see how little my cowardice has availed. 
The consequences of sin are terribly far-reaching.” 

44 Yes, it goes back and back, and spreads around; it 


470 


KESTELL OP GREYSTONE. 


wraps one round, and there is no escape— there is none for 
me!'* 

“ That was not your doctrine before, Jesse/* said Hoel, 
gently, wondering at himself as Saul must have wondered 
when he found himself among the prophets. 

“ Thank you,** said Jesse, starting up with a new light 
in his eyes, and he grasped HoeTs hand. “Mr. Fenner, 
you are right; that was not my doctrine when I was guilt- 
less; now that I have sinned I must arise and go to my 
Father. I have much to do.. Thank you for your help. 
Anyhow, let me begin. Take this letter for me, I can not 
bear to see it; but this — this is another matter.** He tore 
the will in two and threw it on the fire. 

“Jesse, wait! What are you doing? Remember the 
proof of -your birth, of your property!** 

“ We can prove it in other ways than through this hate- 
ful gold. One thing more, I think that Miss Amice Kes- 
tell knows this — do you?'* 

“ Yes, 1 fear she guesses most of it.** 

“ Then show her the letter and tell her 1 resign every- 
thing but my father*s name. Look, I have two strong 
hands, and 1 can keep Symee in the colonies if not here.’* 
Hoel put his hand on Jesse's shoulder. 

“ Don't be rash, my dear fellow. Remember that now 
you have your cousin Hoel Fenner to reckon with." 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A MEETING ON THE MOOR. 

More than a year has gone by, and a year makes a great 
change even in a country lane to those who have observant 
eyes. Nature works miracles by following her own in- 
finitesimal laws, and why should the kingdom of the spir- 
itual world be less marvelous? 

The strange events that took place at quiet Rushbrook 
are still occasionally talked about, because anything out of 
the ordinary is welcome to the country mind. 

Mr. Kestell’s sudden death of course put the wedding 
out of the range of possibilities, and as Walter Akister only 
once returned to Rushbrook, and then emigrated, the idea 
of his again acting the part of a bridegroom was out of the 
question. It was known as an open secret that Elva utterly 
rejected the idea of fulfilling her engagement. 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


471 


Mr. Kestell’s will excited immense interest, for the 
amount of his riches had been a staple subject of conver- 
sation. There was much talk about a last will, but as no 
last will was ever found, the one before the last stood 
valid, and the curious public were overjoyed to find that 
Kestell of Greystone died a rich man, though not quite so 
fabulously wealthy as he had been said to be. 

He left large sums to charity, which George Guthrie 
said was a thousand pities; it was a bad example to other 
rich men not to give in their life-time, but then Mr. Kes- 
tell had always been generous, so George was called “ a 
terrible radical ” by his cousin for his queer remark. 
Next Mr. Kestell left his wife half his fortune with Rush- 
brook House, and the other half between his two daugh- 
ters, out of which, however, ten thousand pounds were to 
be paid to Jesse Vicary, and another ten thousand to his 
sister. 

The world was loud in its praises. Mr. Kestell was in- 
deed generous to the orphan children. Jesse Vicary had 
got more than he deserved, for lately he had not given 
much satisfaction to his patron, and as to Symee, why, she 
would be ruined with so much money. It was even 
mooted, sub rosct , whether that will which had mysteri- 
ously disappeared vvas not to revoke this bequest, but the 
further inference that Jesse had got hold of it and de- 
stroyed it was too preposterous to be much entertained, 
except now and then by one of Mrs. Eagle Bennison’s 66 1 
wonder if.” 

But further surprises were in store for Rushbrook. Mrs. 
Kestell became a strong woman, and took to the world like 
a duck to water. She insisted on buying a London house, 
and as soon as possible entertained on the plea that it was 
for a daughter’s sake. Kay, more, she became an active 
domestic tyrant, and having so long husbanded her strength, 
found that she had plenty to spare for this purpose. 

Elva and Amice had begun by humoring her every wish, 
so that she might miss her husband less, but they found 
that their days of freedom were over. Amice had been 
used to giving up her own way, but Elva found it a hard 
trial; still she determined to bear it without a murmur. 
Mrs. Kestell could always make her obey by one word of 
appeal to a dead father, and she used her power unmerci- 
fully. 


472 


KESTELL OF GKEY STONE. 


Amice’s doings were interesting to Kushbrook only in so 
far as they proved that she was a little 44 off her head.” 
“As I have always said/’ remarked Miss Heaton, when 
she heard that Amice had scruples about property and had 
signed a deed of gift of most of her share of the money to 
be used for the good of the poor of London, the money be- 
ing vested in the name of Jesse Vicary. 

If Amice had married a groom and disgraced herself by 
first running away with him the outcry could not have 
been greater? Strangely enough, too, her odd ways and 
her uncanny second sight had disappeared since her fa- 
ther’s death. She was more like other people, and ought, 
so people said, to have known better than to waste good 
money on the poor. As well throw your gold pieces at 
once into the sea than sink them in good works when no 
result can be visible. 4 4 It was quite different if one built 
something which could be called after your own name; 
that really was distingue ,” Mrs. Eagle Bennison said , 44 and 
was becoming fashionable. ” So, though Amice seemed like 
other people, except less selfish, she was pronounced 
44 crazier than ever.” 

Jesse Vicary was not a gentleman, so what he did was of 
no importance; still Mrs. Eagle Bennison often heard about 
him from George Guthrie, who really liked 44 the lower 
orders,” apart from societies to do them good. It was a 
strange taste, but he had it, just as Captain Dusantory had 
a fancy for consorting with Spiritualists. Well, Jesse and 
his sister actually lived still in Golden Sparrow Street, 
though they each had the interest of ten thousand pounds! 
George had just come to Court Garden after a long stay in 
town, and his cousin was listening to the news. 

44 You see how difficult, George, it is to reform low-class 
people. Birds of a feather flock together; even if you buy 
a pretty cage for them, they won’t live in it. That’s what 
comes of building model cottages. I always tell the squire 
it is of no use, they like to be dirty best.” 

In vain George Guthrie explained that Jesse lived in a 
very nice little house which was as clean as ’Liza could 
make it, and that this very young person had better not 
hear his cousin abusing her Mr. Vicary, adding: 

44 Jesse Vicary is a man in a thousand; he gives his life 
up to reforming Golden Sparrow Street, and he thinks lie’s 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 473 

only doing his duty. Dear coz, judge not till you have 
paid a visit to the Golden Sparrow neighborhood.” 

44 Quite a waste of time, 1 think.” 

44 Oh, but he writes for the 4 Current Reader/ too. Hoel 
Fenner is always there, so I assure you you will meet good 
company.” 

46 Don't mention that wicked literary young man to me, 
George. 1 suppose he means to make up to Elva again; 
but 1 know dear Mrs. Kestell is looking higher now, so 
Elva will never be allowed to make a mistake again.” 

44 Elva, my dear cousin, never will make another mis- 
take; she is too wise; she has succumbed to the last in- 
firmity of noble minds, in fact she has written a novel.” 

44 Written a novel! Not under her own name? It is so 
terrible when a young woman dubs herself as literary — no 
sensible young man will marry her. ” 

44 Well, you must tell her this when they come here 
after the season, the beginning of August. You know she 
3s clever, and she had better write novels than be a martyr 
to her father's memory any longer. I declare the dead are 
sometimes as tyrannous as the living.” 

44 George, how shocking! But you haven't heard my 
news. There really is going to be a wedding at Rushbrook, 
and this time I am sure the lady will not be clever enough 
to say no. Guess.” George guessed wrong, of course. 
How was a poor bachelor to be equal to probing the secrets 
of the heart? 

44 Well, it's Mr. Heaton himself. Miss Heaton went out 
for a fortnight's holiday, and during that time he became 
engaged to Betta Akister, but she says gravely that her 
father was so much put out and hindered by Walter's at- 
tempt at matrimony that she must manage all this without 
him. There's a meteor or an eclipse or something ex- 
pected in the sky!” 

44 Poor Miss Heaton! Well done, Herbert! Why, she 
never tried to shield him in that quarter!” 

George chuckled over this at intervals during the rest of 
the day, but he was more interested in Elva than in Her- 
bert Heaton's love affairs. 

When he had been in London he had learned to forgive 
Hoel, who was altogether a changed man, and Hoel had 
let out his hopeless secret — though without revealing the 
reason of that 44 mysterious exodus,” as George called it. 


474 


KESTELL OF ORE Y STONE. 


Elva still treated him as a stranger. They met pretty fre- 
quently at other people's houses, but the result was nil. 
As a iast resource, George wickedly suggested that Hoel 
should review Elva's novel; he little guessed that he had 
done it once before. 

This novel, published under her own name, was a very 
different work of art from 44 An Undine of To-day." It 
was a simple story, but the pathos, if somewhat too somber 
for a general reader, w r as true. Hoel in his rooms read it, 
but positively dared not review it as highly as he should 
have done had he had no connection with the writer^ for 
fear Elva should think he was not sincere. Poor Hoel, he 
was very sick at heart. His love had deepened, had out- 
grown all its proper limits, and yet he was no nearer to 
Elva. He knew he should never dare to mention it to her. 
Jesse was his only confidant and his only comforter, though 
as he thought it perfectly natural that Hoel should love for 
the rest of his life and never get further reward, the com- 
fort was cold, if of a high order. 

The cousins had resolved to keep Jesse's name a secret 
fer a year, so as, if possible, to avert all suspicion from 
the memory of Mr. Kestell. Amice knew everything, and 
she, though she would not keep the money that was so 
tainted with sin, agreed to keep all knowledge of this from 
her mother and sister. She said that Jesse had the right 
to command, she must only obey, but she began a new and 
a happier life. To her imagination it seemed that the 
curse was taken away, for she entirely lost all her much- 
dreaded second sight from the day of her father’s death. 
Clever doctors could of course have explained it to her in 
another way, but the mind is altogether out of the province 
of medicine. 

Amice believed in penance, and hers took the form of 
going out to parties to please her mother, but this duty 
over, she would find time to dress herself in an unfashiona- 
ble style, and go to Golden Sparrow Street to have a chat 
with Symee, who was indeed a happy woman. There was 
no more pinching, no more strange looks from Jesse, only 
just the work she liked, seeing after his bodily comfort, of 
which he was so careless, and helping him with his poor 
people. 

When Miss Amice came Jesse received her as if she had 
been the queen in person, and Svmee, of course, could not 


KESTELL OE GKEY STONE. 


475 


welcome her enough. There was always so much to talk 
about in the disposing of the fund. Jesse would consult 
Miss Amice, but Symee noticed with pleasure that the lat- 
ter deferred entirely to Jesse’s opinion. 

“ We owe all our happiness to you and Mr. Kestell,” 
Symee often said at first, but as these words really pained 
Miss Amice she left off saying them; but to her the mem- 
ory of Mr. Kestell was sacred. 

Happiness is very beautiful, so let no one believe in the 
modern moralists who love the dark side of life and who, 
from their words, would have us believe that our race is 
doomed to misery. Of these three Amice was the happiest, 
for Jesse would persist in looking upon himself as a man 
who, like David, had greatly sinned and must greatly re- 
pent. And Symee was learning slowly from them "both 
that perfect joy comes only in work for others. 

Toward the end of the season, and when Elva and Amice 
were looking forward to seeing once more their beloved 
forest lands, their aunt, Mrs. Fitzgerald, was escorting 
them to a big 4 4 At Home ” at the house of a fashionable 
lady. Mrs. Fitzgerald was now very gracious to her nieces, 
because her own daughters had all married first and she 
could afford to be kind to 44 those poor Kestells.” 

44 By the way, Elva,” said her aunt, as they were driv- 
ing to their destination, 44 Mr. Fenner is sure to be there; 
he is thought so much of in the literary world now. 1 
hear he is going to marry Sir Arthur Parke’s daughter. 
She is a very clever girl and very charming. It was a pity 
you changed your mind, for really he is quite a parti now. 
The cousin who inherited all the uncle’s property has late- 
ly died, aud Mr. Fenner will now be rich as well as distin- 
guished. I think you were a very silly girl. Literature is 
quite the fashion now, and if you can’t get rank — ” 

Elva was brave; she did not betray by word or look that 
her heart sunk down, and that all the sunshine went out 
of the day. 

44 1 hope he will be happy,” was her answer; but Amice 
understood. Unobserved, she slipped her hand into her 
sister’s, and she suddenly hated Hoel. 44 1 thought he 
was true to her,” she said to herself. 

That afternoon the sisters got separated in the crowd, 
and Elva met Hoel face to face. 


476 


KESTELL OF GKEYSTONE. 


She held out her hand as usual, and poor Hoel, who 
always felt utterly stupid when near to her, from excess of 
humility and dread of putting himself still further from 
her, murmured a commonplace remark. 

“ 1 thought you would be here. I wanted to tell you 
myself that — ” 

“ Thank you,” she interrupted him, very quietly, “ I 
wanted to be the first to — 99 

“ To say you did not believe that I want to retract past 
words?” 

Elva flushed; she positively could not be master of the 
tell-tale color; she could hardly believe she heard aright. 
Certainly Hoel Fenner was honest now; but did he think 
she still held him bound by those old false promises? Still, 
it was cruel of him, and yet how was she to cure herself? 
This must cure her. One thing she was sure of, he could 
never guess her feelings. 

“ No,” she answered; “ 1 wished merely to congratulate 
you.” 

,Elva had never looked so dignified and beautiful as she 
did now. Hoel would have kissed the hem of her gar- 
ment, but modern society in the form of a “ squash ” en- 
tirely precluded this idea being carried out; besides, Eiva’s 
own far-off dignity in any case kept him stationary. 

“ At having changed my views?” he asked, wistfully, 
as he looked at her for one instant. 

Elva could bear no more; she saw some one who claimed 
liefi. attention, and she left Hoel without answering his re- 
mark. 

He remained staring at nothing in his corner; he hated 
the room and the people, and almost life itself. He said 
his punishment was greater than he could bear. At this 
moment Amice touched him. 

“ I was looking for you, Mr. Fenner.” 

Her voice trembled with indignation. She looked round 
and saw they were quite alone in this crowd. 

46 Let me congratulate you,” said Amice, scornfully. 
Irony being a new weapon in her hands, she used it rather 
wildly. 

“ On what?” 

“ On your engagement to Miss Parke, who is clever, T . 
hear, and very, very — 99 


KESTELL OF G KEY STONE. 477 

44 Good heavens! is that what your sister meant?” Hoel 
turned hot all over. 

44 We have just heard it.” 

44 What nonsense! Amice, you know better, you know 
I am sick to death; I live on crumbs of bare notice; I 
know your sister will never, never forgive me, never love 
me, and yet 1 go on hoping against hope. What am 1 to 
do? How can I come to her with no excuse! You, at 
least, know the truth — ” 

Amice was conquered at once. Her eyes filled with 
tears. 

44 Forgive me; it was only to-day I felt sure that — ” 

44 That what?” 

44 Elva loves you still.” 

44 But will not trust me? That is terrible.” 

44 1 don't know. When will Mr. Pellew take his own 
name? Till then — 1 — ” 

Poor Amice! the shame of the past swept over her again. 

44 My cousiq will do so now if you wish it.” 

44 He often tells me what you are to him,” said Amice, 
her blue eyes fixed on Hoel. 44 Without you he would 
have taken life in the wrong way.” 

44 Then the obligation is mutual. But, Amice, let me 
speak to you as I would to a sister. Don’t believe such 
rumors again; they only pain me. If your sister will never 
forgive, then I shall never marry.” 

44 .1 must tell her the truth, then,” said Amice. 

44 But remember what she will suffer. No; I can bear it 
for her sake. You have heard perhaps that I am a rich 
man now. When it is too late, perhaps — still — ” 

44 Yes, I see.” 

They parted, but Hoel was in a fever of misery. There 
was nothing he would take in exchange for Elva. Biches 
had come too late. 

He walked on heedlessly, speaking to people who spoke 
to him, but looking for Elva. He found her at last just 
as she was going out of the room. 

44 One minute. Miss Kestell. You mistook me just now. 
I was talking of your book, but I suppose you still hate 
critics.” He tried to speak lightly. 

44 You said once that those who aspired to write must be 
willing to suffer,” she said, with a new hope that Miss 
Parke was a myth. 


478 


KESTELL OF GREYSTONE. 


4 4 1 was one-sided; bub 1 know better now. Those who 
aspire to be critics must understand suffering. ” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald was coming down upon them in full sail; 
she was bound for another fashionable port. 

44 Good-bye,” said Elva, 44 we go to Rushbrook to-mor- 
row,” and Hoel fell back into his slough of despondency. 

A week afterward he was raised up from it and looked 
up into a blue sky. He received a letter from Elva. 

“ Rushbrook. 

44 Hear Mr. Fenner, — Since I saw you Amice has told 
me the truth. Why did you both hide it from me for so 
long? It was for his sake and my mother’s sake, 1 see; 
but, oh! why did I not know it before? I would have 
faced the world for him and with him; the sin of those we 
love must be ours too. Hid you think I feared poverty or 
shame with him? No one knew him as I did, and yet I 
was not allowed to help him. 

44 But even now, though sometimes I feel crushed by 
remembrance, I am glad to know the truth. If he can 
know anything now, he knows that I should never have 
forsaken him. 

44 You feared to share our shame; but you came back at 
last. 

44 Who am I to blame you? I am but his daughter even 
now. But I can not forget — now I know it — what you 
have done since. It is through you and Mr. Pellew that 
we have been shielded, it is through you that his memory 
is not defamed. 

44 For her sake and for his I accept the sacrifice. Some 
day, if we meet again, you will let me thank you. 

44 Elya Kestell.” 

Hoel never knew how often he read that letter. He 
fancied he had known Elva before; but these few words 
revealed to him something nobler than he had imagined, 
almost nobler than he had formerly been able to conceive. 
A woman whose love was as the immovable rock, whose 
forgiveness was as healing to the bruised heart as cool oint- 
ment on the scorched flesh. How was Hoel to be worthy 
of this love? Even now, however, her words held out but 
a faint hope for himself. 


KESTELL OF GBEYSTONE. 4?9 

He put on his hat and went toward Golden Sparrow 
Street. At the entrance he met George Guthrie. 

“ Halloo, Fenner! are you blind? I've been waving my 
stick at you as if you were a cabby, and all to no purpose. 
I've run up from Rushbrook to congratulate Jesse on his 
new name. Queer, these sudden discoveries, eh? It makes 
me remember — well, it almost explains a good many puz- 
zles. " 

“ No, no/ 9 said Hoel, earnestly, “ don't puzzle out any- 
thing; help us to make it appear natural. It's Jesse's 
greatest wish. Have you come from Rushbrook?" 

“ Yes, and it's looking its best. The Kestells are there, 
and look all the better for mixing in general society. 
Amice is getting quite commonplace. By the way, why 
don't you come down for a little holiday? But perhaps you 
are going abroad?" 

“ Miss Kestell might not like it." 

“ Elva has taken to writing novels; of course, that is sup- 
posed to alter some people; but when I knew her she was 
a girl who had a trick of sticking to her original opinion 
about people. To be quite plain, I really think she is ex- 
pecting to see you." 

Hoel paused on the threshold of Jesse's house. 

“ Do you think I have the least chance? The truth is, 
I've been a coward all along, and now — " 

“ Turn over a new leaf and try. I've come with an in- 
vitation from Elva to — let me see, your cousin — isn't he 
now? — to spend a week at Rushbrook House with Symee. 
If he has not renounced all pleasure, his native air will do 
Jesse good. He's a fine fellow, and my cousin has just 
recollected the fact. She says, c He always did look like a 
gentleman; 1 said so years ago.' " 

Hoel smiled, as he said sadly: 

“ Elva didn't ask me." 

“ Pshaw! Do you think she ever would? But take the 
word of a bachelor, she expects you all the same." 

And then they walked upstairs and Hoel sat down and, 
instead of hearing what was said, he lost himself in a beau- 
tiful dream of autumn glory on the moors. 

That evening Elva received a tiny note, but she took it 
out on the moor to read it all alone. 

The moonlight was painting the moorland; every shade 
of palest blue, of gray, and of silver was over the land- 


480 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


scape; but the mist did not yet hide the waving lines o f 
hills, and the wind swept softly over the lovely land. 

4 4 1 must come, I must, if only, Elva, my dearest, my 
life, to ask for your forgiveness, if only just to feel the 
touch of your hand and to know that you, the best, the 
most noble of women, have not altogether forgotten that 
I love you, and that, if that love is not yet perfect, it shall 
become so in time, and that when it is perfect you will not 
reject it. 

44 Hoel Fenner. 

44 1 will be on the moor where 1 first picked the gentians 
to-morrow at six o’clock. If 1 see you there 1 shall know 
that love like yours can forgive cowardice like mine.” 

^ Jf: % * 4: 

The evening is drawing in over the forest. The sun has 
sunk behind the high land. In the west every shade of 
orange, apricot yellow, lemon, is here, swept across the sky 
in bands that melt into one another. From the east a dark- 
gray, misty horizon comes stretching into the western glory, 
getting darker as it rises, till it too faints into blue and 
silver above the heads of two who are slowly making their 
way home almost in silence, because the fullness of love is 
silent. Above their heads one or two stars alone stand out 
to herald their fellows. The harvest moon has not yet 
risen, only a bank of misty, pale purple is where she must 
appear. It is not dark nor light. The daylight colors of 
foliage have all disappeared, and the distant trees are drawn 
out in neutral tint, but the yellow stubble-fields are plain, 
and the silver sand on the winding moorland paths appears 
white in the half light. The distant outlines of undulating 
country are still visible, but nothing hard remains save the 
dark trees against the sky. Nature is hushed, except for 
a few sounds, the familiarity of which prevent the loneli- 
ness from being oppressive. A distant watch-dog’s bark, 
and nearer, a robin’s wild, sweet notes rise clear and strong 
from the trees of the gill, the stream trickles steadily, a 
faint evening wind slightly rustles the beeches and lifts the 
leaves of its neighbor till nothing is left but a tree of sil- 
ver. By the next rising stands a pyramidal stack of hop- 
j)oles that look for all the world like a- wigwam, and when 
the two have passed it they turn and gaze on the scenes 
and notice that the hop-poles rise dark and clearly defined 


KESTELL OF GREY STONE. 


481 


against the orange sky. The gray curtain deepens in the 
south, and the apricot sky becomes intensified, while the 
yellow light seems to dart up and quiver into the lemon 
color above, then sink down again into the slowly fading 
apricot band. 

Now the pair have reached the brow of the Beacon, and 
they can see a few scattered houses; in one of them a 
bright light seems to give a friendly welcome to the passers- 
by. Suddenly a little girl of some eight years comes toward 
them. She is laden with two heavy parcels which she has 
slung across her shoulders. It is the family bread and the 
green corn for the chickens, and she is making her way to 
some cottages more than a mile away. 

Elva stoops down and says a few kind words, and Hoel, 
out of the fullness of an overflowing heart, also stoops and 
puts a new half crown in the child’s hand. Then she 
smilingly trudges off into the deepening twilight, patient 
and uncomplaining for her long walk. That little gift has 
made the bread and the green corn quite light. 

44 My darling,” Hoel says, 44 T feel as if 1 must give 
something to eveiybody at Kushbrook, because of my hap- 
piness,” and Elva answers: 

44 There are so many burdens we can help to lighten to- 
gether — oh, Hoel, together!” 

16 


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